Each In Their Own Way
by MtnGhostCat
Summary: The Reaper War is over. Temporarily stuck on earth, the Turians are working with humans of all nationalities and personalities. Primarch Victus finds that humans and Turians aren't that different in some ways. Rated M for swearing.
1. Chapter 1

_Hello Good Folk. I'm back with a new story. Yes, I'm still working on Lost in the Translator and A Matter of Perspective; but this one popped up and didn't want to go away. It was inspired by seeing a video of Maori doing a Haka. Being a predator species, I wondered what Garrus and other Turians would think of this. It did sort of take an odd turn the other day so I'm not quite sure where it's going; but I hope you enjoy it. This is set after Just Another Saturday Night, and Lost in the Translator, and before A Matter of Perspective. As always this wondrous Universe is Biowares and I'm just playing with it. I get no money out of this._

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Each In Their Own Way

 **Garrus**

Garrus had made his way down to the back area of the mansion. He'd found the small stone patio on his first day here; it wasn't visible from most of the mansion. He came out here now whenever he wanted to escape being an 'Advisor'. Given that the Reapers were gone he didn't think he deserved the title anymore; and had said as much to Victus, but the Primarch seemed to appreciate his input. Either that or he just enjoyed teasing Garrus. ( _Garrus strongly suspected the latter.)_ All the rest of the Primarch's Advisors about had a stroke, as the humans would say, the first time he'd back talked, politely of course, to Victus in a meeting. And never mind being a Praetor – he was sure Solana would have a LOT to say about that promotion. None of it complementary.

It was a rare, very rare, sunny day and Garrus relaxed on the stone seat next to the building and soaked up the faint warmth.

He closed his eyes and finally gave thought to his dilemma. He couldn't get near Shepard, couldn't warn her what the Alliance was up to; he couldn't even really let Joker know. Something told him, they'd tapped the Normandy's com lines and possibly even Joker's omni-tool. Either way – he wouldn't take a chance. Not where she was concerned.

He'd thought he'd be able to accept being apart from her as long as he knew she was okay; but the growing heaviness in his soul said otherwise. Every day was a little worse than the one before; particularly when he heard news reports of her being on a victory tour around the globe. And seeing her picture then hearing her voice was like someone driving a knife into his throat then cutting straight down to his gut. Each day he wanted, no needed, more and more to see her, to be with her. And he knew he couldn't do that – she would be the one to suffer if he was weak – and he would NOT do that to her.

That left only one option. One he had hoped not to take; but more and more he was coming to think that he had no choice if he was to keep her safe.

He stirred restlessly on the stone bench he was sitting on. He stood up, needing to pace to get his mind clear on what he had to do.

He'd only made a couple of circuits when abruptly, at a distance, he heard an odd sound. It distracted him as he tried to place it. Straining his ears, he could make out what sounded like a heavy chant overlapping the stamping of feet and something else he couldn't quite identify. Curious, he drifted in that direction.

It only took him a short time to realize that it was coming from what Whiteson had said was an indoor riding arena. He'd been told they'd bunked Turian soldiers out here in the very early days, but only for a short time. It was a little too cold for Turian tastes. Now they just used it as a garage for a couple of the Turian APCs.

The closer he got to the arena the clearer the sounds became. It was a chant – several male voices, again over laying heavy foot stomping and another smacking sound. The beat was a heavy human rhythm – not Turian but it stirred his blood anyway.

He slipped into the arena though the attached stable area. The few horses left, snorted at his presence. The animals were instinctively aware of Turians being apex predators and wanted little to do with them. He was careful to stay in the center of the aisle between the stalls. They'd learned early on that a Turian getting too close to a horse could cause it to panic and bolt.

He finally got to where he could see into the arena without being observed. To his surprise he found a group of about 8 men, their chests bare, chanting and stamping, slapping their hands to their chests. He shivered at that – it was way too cold to go without clothing; but it didn't seem to bother these men.

He recognized them as the small human soldier contingent that had been bunked at the embassy recently. The Alliance base was currently too full so they'd sent these men over here.

Not only were they chanting they were also making the oddest faces he'd ever seen. Not even the human drunks on the Citadel had looked that weird. Rolling their eyes and sticking their tongues out. If he had to guess he thought they were trying to be intimidating.

Then he noticed a ninth man, holding a long stick, he seemed to be in charge/running this maneuver. Dance? He wasn't sure what you would call it. Settling himself comfortably on a crate he just watched them.

While he didn't know what they called it – he recognized it as some form of battle/intimidation performance?

He was thoroughly fascinated. He knew that humans had a bewildering array of cultures and sub cultures; but this one was completely new to him. He watched, entranced, his problems forgotten for the moment.

But before they finished up, his omni-tool signaled. Since they were still engaged in 'mopping up' operations for Cerberus, and those few husks that seemed to have been enough human to survive the Reaper's fall; he'd set his device to silently alert him.

He checked. Sighing, it was yet another, useless as far as he was concerned, meeting. Quietly he got up and left the way he'd come.

When he got to the meeting room. Some sort of day room he'd been told, he hadn't much paid attention, everyone else was there.

"Ah Advisor Vakarian, glad you could join us." Victus commented as he came in the door. Given the tone of that greeting he knew Victus was in a snappish mood, something he was noticing from the older man more and more in the past couple of weeks. Especially since they'd gotten in more reports from Palaven, specifically Cipritine.

"Primarch Victus, my apologies, I was out on the grounds." Given Victus's mood he avoided a smart-ass comment. He got a sharp click from Victus's mandibles in acknowledgement as he sat down at the far end of the table.

As the meeting progressed it became obvious that it was more of the usual or as Shepard used to say - the same old, same old. For a moment his heart contracted painfully at the thought of her – then he recovered.

It was Victus that attracted his attention. The older man was moving in sharp, jerky motions not his usual flowing power under control movements. He also had an underlying irritated hum to his sub harmonics that was acting on his staff like someone was rubbing sand into their plates. He'd never seen a bunch of adults fidget that much. Constantly surrounded by some of the weird harmonics on the various Normandys, it didn't bother him quite as much.

After the mercifully short meeting was over; all Victus's advisors discretely left, fled really, the conference room – no doubt driven out by the Primarch's angry sub tones.

Garrus sighed and stayed put.

Victus hadn't realized he was there until he looked up from a datapad he was studying. He started.

"Vakarian, I dismissed everyone."

Garrus didn't move from where he was leaning against the wall. "When was the last time you sparred, Victus?"

He could see the older man bristle at that question. "It's…" He began.

"Horse pucky, as a friend would say." Garrus didn't think about where he'd picked up that phrase. He was too busy warily watching his friend shift into one of Palaven's Apex Predators. A decidedly angry one.

"Advisor." Victus menacingly used his lesser tittle.

"Primarch." Garrus shot back, unintimidated, as he straightened up. "It's obvious that you are under an enormous amount of stress. Enough strain that your staff will be duty bound to help you with it, Primarch."

Victus blanched at that, as much as a Turian could, when he realized just what that might entail. He was still dodging the offers of stress relief from Lieutenant Tafero, his head of Security. Something he couldn't deal with right now.

Garrus knew that Victus's mate was one of the millions who'd gone missing when the Reapers had hit Cipritine. The older man would not fully believe or accept it until he was standing in the middle of the ruins of Cipritine. As a result, he tended to stick with sparring as a stress reliever, considering the other to be disrespectful to his mate.

It wasn't the usual response to such a situation; but sometimes it happened, particularly with life mates.

"What would you suggest I do?" Victus tilted his head in question, some of his anger bleeding off.

"Spar." Came the succinct answer.

"Are you volunteering, Vakarian?"

"If you're ordering it – I'm there." He sighed. "If you're not ordering it, I'm still there." He knew he was good, he also knew that Victus was better.

For the first time since he'd entered the room, Victus smiled; but it wasn't exactly a friendly smile.

"Alright, but I want to do something different today – if you are knowledgeable."

It was Garrus turn to look curious.

"Sit'kessa." Victus told him.

Garrus considered for a moment. "I have had lessons; but I am far from proficient."

"Can you keep yourself in one piece?" Victus got serious.

"More or less."

"Then Sit'kessa it is." Victus indicated the door. As they left the conference room, Garrus wondered what he'd gotten himself into. Sit'kessa was an ancient form of fighting done with armored and edged gloves or cestus. Done slowly it was dangerous and tricky. Done at full speed it was lethal and near impossible to counter unless you were well trained, which he wasn't. He had a feeling that a visit to the doctor was in his future.

 **Whiteson**

Whiteson was making his normal circuit around the grounds. He did this everyday unless the weather prevented him. He was thorough and dedicated; but he didn't feel that that required him to risk pneumonia.

He was out near the barns when a couple of the New Zealand detachment approached him. Their serious looks caught his attention.

"Gentlemen, is everything alright?"

"Officer…"

"Whiteson is fine." He told the younger man. Ari he thought his name was. "How can I help you?'

The two men looked at each other then the older one spoke up. "I don't know if you can."

Whiteson looked askance at that.

"We know the Turians are here." The younger man began.

"But they've never bothered us."

"Has someone done it now?" Whiteson was instantly alert. There was that one Praetor, Temkal he thought the name was, and he was the definition of an ass. Whiteson could easily see him interfering.

"Not exactly; but we noticed one of them watching us this afternoon as we practiced. Very intently."

"I don't believe it's anything they might know about." Whiteson hoped that the Turians wouldn't make trouble for the New Zealand soldiers. "Did you recognize the man?"

"He's new around here." That was Ihaka the older man. A white haired veteran, bearing scars of years of fighting everything from pirates to Reapers. "A badly scared face, blue colony marks, and very blue eyes."

Whiteson knew instantly who he was talking about. Vakarian. Who had appeared at the mansion a few weeks ago. Victus had welcomed him with open arms, so to speak. But he, Whiteson, knew next to nothing about the man. The other Turians seemed to regard him as some sort of hero, and he thought the name Vakarian was somehow familiar.

But if he was a hero, he didn't act like it. He kept a low profile and was always pleasant and courteous to the staff of the mansion. And he certainly didn't dress like it. Usually wearing a mismatched suit of battle damaged armor with no rank markings on it. The one thing that made him stand out was the enormous sniper rifle he carried. From the worn and well cared for look of the weapon Whiteson had a feeling that he was a master of it.

"Do you want me to ask the Primarch to put your practices off limits?"

"No." The older man said. "We don't mind them watching – we only wanted to know if our practice was somehow stepping over some sort of cultural line."

"I doubt it; but I will ask for you." Whiteson told them. The older man nodded and he and Ari headed back to their barracks.

Whiteson took a moment to think where the Primarch might be. The Turian tended to check in with his people most everyday, like himself; but had no set schedule and could be anywhere and often was.

Whiteson decided to check the mansion first and work out from there.

He headed for the kitchen entrance of the mansion; but as he was passing one of the outbuildings. It had been turned into a warehouse for supplies decades ago – he heard the sounds of combat. Turian combat. Grunts, mandible clicks, low growls, and snarls. He knew that part of the warehouse had now become a secondary gym/sparring area for the Turians. The main one being in the mansion where it was warmer. The Turians did not like the cold.

Curious he decided to check it out, just on the off chance the Primarch was there.

Not only was Victus there, he was one of the two men in the ring. The other, speak of the devil, was Vakarian. They were engaged in some sort of lightning fast routine that entailed a lot of striking and slashing with their hands.

They'd stripped to their undersuits and were each wearing odd tunics. Made of what seemed to be heavy quilted leather – they covered the fighter's torso and neck. The arms being shielded separately.

An odd darkened gleam alerted him to the fact that along with the tunic they were also wearing gauntlets that had long metal strips across the tops of their talons and fingers, on them. Victus struck at Vakarian and Whiteson saw the lighter mark on the leather as something scored it, even as Vakarian dodged.

Those metal strips were not only razor sharp, if he was any judge; but serrated in areas. Given their speed and size – he would not have wanted to get into the ring with either of these two men. In this moment they were the epitome of the Apex Predators the Turians were known as.

Victus was the obvious master here – raining blows on the younger man and forcing him to dodge and dance out of the way, defending rather than attacking. But Vakarian also had some moves on him, and if Whiteson was any judge, some of them startled Victus; but you didn't get to be a general by not learning how to adapt on the fly.

Whiteson knew better than to distract the two men. There was live steel out so he remained quiet and simply watched. Frankly, he was fascinated by the display. He'd seen Turians sparring before but this was something entirely different – far more stylized than anything he'd yet witnessed. Almost more a ritual if he had to guess.

Victus snapped out something – more a growl and click of his mandibles and their 'dance' speeded up. Vakarian wasn't getting many blows in; but he was giving a good account of himself. Victus couldn't seem to close with him no matter how hard he tried.

"Primarch?" Came a loud flanging voice and another Turian came from around some crates, looking at a datapad.

Both fighters were distracted and Vakarian took a vicious swipe to his upper arm before he stumbled back out of range.

Victus whirled on the intruder, decidedly angry, and snarled at him. "Temkal!"

"Ah, I didn't realize you were sparring, sir." Temkal sounded and looked contrite, if Whiteson was any judge.

"Then you need to clean the fluff out of your ears." Victus snapped. At least Whiteson thought that was what he'd said, as odd as it sounded. Temkal looked embarrassed.

"What is it?"

"The reports from the patrol ships, sir." He held up the datapad

Victus stood there, his mandibles flexing a few times – counting to ten Turian style, Whiteson realized.

"Anything out of the ordinary, Praetor?" Whiteson winced at the heavy sarcasm in that question. The Primarch was furious.

"Er…no, sir." Temkal told him.

"Then leave the reports with my aide." Victus snapped. "Is there anything else?"

"No sir. I'll see to that, sir." With that Temkal beat a hasty retreat.

Victus stood watching him go then snarled to himself. Cursing Temkal if the static and spitting coming out of Whiteson's translator was any clue. Then he started stripping off his gloves, pausing only when he realized there was ink blue blood on one of them.

"Garrus?" He spun towards the younger man – who – unnoticed by the others had gotten the arm off his tunic to reveal a deep slash on his upper left arm. He'd already retrieved a medi-gel packet from his armor and was applying it to the wound.

"You're injured." Victus sounded ashamed.

"I've gotten worse from an exploding geth." Vakarian shrugged it off. "Besides, that's the chance you take when you fight Sit'Kessa."

"Not when someone distracts you." Victus stalked over and studied the wound. "You need to see Jakan."

"I'm fine, Adrien." Vakarian reassured him, starting to put his armor on.

"No, you're not." Victus glared at him. "Go see Jakan; and that's an order."

"Victus.." Vakarian began and Victus glowered at him. "Oh…all right."

He got the rest of his armor on and departed, nodding politely to Whiteson as he passed him.

"Whiteson, thank you for your combat etiquette." Victus finished removing his sparring outfit and started getting his armor on.

"When live steel is out, you stay out of the way and keep your mouth shut." The older man told him as he walked over. Bending down he picked up a greave and handed it to Victus. Victus nodded.

"Not everyone…" Here Victus glared in the direction that Temkal had gone. "…understands that."

Whiteson nodded, picking up Victus's gloves from a nearby shelf and handing them over.

"Is there a problem, Whiteson?" Victus accepted his gloves.

"I don't believe so, sir." Whiteson told him.

"But you've obviously sought me out for some reason."

Whiteson paused, unsure of how to phrase what he had to say.

"Is there some cultural taboo for the Turians about another culture's semi-religious practices?" He finally got out and could have kicked himself for sounding so pretentious.

"What?" Victus was confused.

"Sorry, Primarch. That came out wrong." Whiteson took a deep breath and tried again. "The human recruits we're putting up."

"The Morry?" Victus said.

"Maori." Whiteson corrected him. "They have a kind of dance called a Haka – it's descended out of ancient war dances and these days is done as a sign of respect or acknowledgement."

Victus indicated for him to go on.

"Well, would the Turians be upset by them practicing their Haka on the grounds?"

Victus looked surprised. "No, of course not. Why, did someone say something?" The way he looked off in the direction that Temkal had gone made Whiteson think he was well aware of the younger man's less than tolerant behavior.

"No; but Praetor Vakarian was apparently watching them this afternoon and they were concerned." Whiteson explained. Victus's tense look eased.

"They needn't worry." Victus smiled. By now, Whiteson had become familiar with how Turians smiled.

 **Victus**

Victus didn't know for sure why Garrus had asked him to keep his identity quiet; though he had a suspicion, but whatever, he'd respect the younger man's wishes.

"It's just curiosity?"

"Yes, Garrus tends to be rather curious about human customs." He explained, then added by way of explanation. "Former C'Sec."

Whiteson nodded, looking relieved.

"Do you want me to tell him and the others to avoid the Maori when they're practicing." Victus would make sure that there was no friction between the humans and the Turians.

"No, not at all. They don't mind if you watch – just didn't want to step on some toes, so to speak." Whiteson assured him.

"I'll let them know."

With that Whiteson excused himself.

Victus put away the _Sit'Kessa_ gloves and tunic.

As he did, he considered Vakarian's situation. Apparently Garrus had been right when he said that without his visor the humans wouldn't really recognize him. Even observant humans like Whiteson. Victus gave a soft chuff of amazement at that.

In almost every vid taken during the fighting, that Victus had seen, Garrus was right behind the Commander – towering over her – guarding her six.

While the humans might not know him; most all the Turian forces did – even without his visor. Vakarian was something of a hero, particularly among the cadets. Victus chuffed in amusement, at that. Garrus had been reduced to mandible clicking embarrassment when Victus told him about his celebrity status among the younger members of the staff. And he'd been ready to run and hide when Victus went on to describe the rather besotted behavior of some of the younger females.

Vakarian didn't consider himself to be a hero, and behaved accordingly. Victus just wished that all of his people behaved that way. Unfortunately, like the humans, there were Turians who were, what was that human saying he rather liked, much too much impressed with themselves.

That meant that part of his duties were spent seeing that such individuals were in positions where they could contribute but that their attitude wouldn't cause trouble.


	2. Chapter 2 - Combining Forces

_Greetings All, really sorry for the delay but life. Rent and now the lovely problem of someone in the area taking up more of the bandwidth than they should. Reducing me to below dial up. So - sorry kids. I haven't given up on any of the stories but it took me almost three hours to get this chapter posted. (What fun - NOT.) So if my posts get really slow, or I don't answer a personal message - that's why. As always thanks to everyone who has faved or is following. You make this all worth while. Have a great one. And wish me faster internet._

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Combining Forces

 **Victus**

The next day Victus had a meeting with his staff and his advisors.

The two groups had originally wanted to have separate meetings; but he recognized a power play when he saw it and ruthlessly combined the two groups.

There were a lot of ruffled egos if the irritated, angry, and just plain affronted sub harmonics he'd heard were anything to go by. Only a couple of his generals and Vakarian seemed immune to the pervasive grumpiness.

Thankfully, during the war they had all worked together seamlessly; but now that the Reapers had been defeated ( _thank the Spirits_ ) the question of tiers and importance had again raised its ugly head like a Thresher Maw.

His oldest general – General Taikus Heldre thought that the whole tier thing was – to use his words – a bunch of varren shit; and he paid absolutely no attention to it. For him it was all about ability.

His youngest general – General Tren Shidak had started as a barefaced lieutenant and the events of the war had catapulted him to a General's rank. For him, anything over bareface was a win. Then, of course, there was Vakarian who didn't, as he so eloquently put it, give a pyjak's ass about his tier. Victus knew he should have been horrified; but he still secretly treasured the looks of shock on everyone's faces at that admission.

Which was actually rather ironic since Vakarian's tier was relatively high now; but every time Victus tried to discuss it with Vakarian, the younger man would find a way to get out of the meeting. He was beginning to think he was going to have to shoot Vakarian ( _non-lethally of course_ ) to get him to stay in one place long enough to talk about his tier.

He walked into the conference room, able to easier ignore the background mood of irritation than he would have before now. Vakarian had ( _Spirits damn him_ ) been right – he'd desperately needed to spar. Everything quieted down drastically as he sat down at the head of the table.

Not one for unnecessary formalities, Victus got straight to the point.

"We need to start locating all our people and getting them to central locations." Victus said. "Then we can assess who should go back to Palaven with the dreadnaught on its next run and who can wait for a time."

"Is there a possibility of getting a second dreadnaught to make the trip?" General Shidak asked. "Speed up our departure?"

Victus sighed. "Apparently they're working on getting the **Invincible** flight worthy; but there was a lot of damage."

"What of the **Invictus** _,_ the **Menae** , and the rest of the fleet?" Shidak continued.

"They've been brought back up to combat status." Victus paused. "But while we've seen what happened to the Reapers; our people are still uncertain if they were all destroyed and Corinthus doesn't want to weaken the forces over Palaven – or take from the still standing colonies."

There was a low murmur as they conferred between each other.

It was General Heldre that spoke up, albeit a touch reluctantly." I…agree with Corinthus, until we know for certain we shouldn't reduce our forces." He sounded a bit stiff; but Victus was surprised that he agreed with Corinthus at all. The two men had a tempestuous working relationship at best.

Victus looked around the table at the others. Vakarian nodded once in agreement, and after a moment so did the rest.

"All right; but I'll send a message to the Captain of the **Taetrus,** they're still just barely in communication range, to let them know that they need to speed up repairs on the **Invincible**."

"What about the cruiser that Praetor Vakarian brought to earth?" Again that was Shidak.

"It can't take many people; and it's too dangerous to send it off alone." Victus was honest.

"We could load it with some of the extra supplies and free up more room on the **Taetrus** when the dreadnaught comes back." Vakarian spoke up.

"Nothing that we won't have elsewhere on the **Taetris**." Shidak added and there were nods all around.

"An excellent idea, Vakarian, Shidak. We'll implement it." Victus told him. Garrus just shrugged, he tended not to like being singled out for praise. "Generals." He also acknowledged Heldre and Shidak.

Just then one of the techs from the communication's room stuck her head in the door. It was a silent cue that there was a message for Victus.

Seeing her, Victus gave a mandible clic of acknowledgement. "Alright, for now we're done." He said. With respectful nods, everyone got up and left.

Victus waited for them to be gone, thankfully no one wanted to lodge a protest or complain about the weather. Complaining about the weather had become an almost species wide pastime for those Turians stuck in the colder areas of earth. Victus truly envied those of his people on the continents of Africa and Australia. Some very odd fauna though, he was still deeply puzzled by the Platypus, but decidedly Palaven like temperatures.

The tech was waiting outside in the hallway when Victus came out.

"Sir, you have a call from Lieutenant Colonel Armitage."

"Thank you Pelat, I'll take it in my office. Oh, and set up a connection to the **Taetris** – I want to talk to Captain Iditha as soon as I finish with this call."

"As you wish, Primarch." With that the young officer headed back to the communication's room while Victus went to his office.

His aide, Kahok, was working at his desk when Victus entered. He started to rise but Victus just waved him back into his seat and went into the inner office.

They'd set up a simple communications unit so he could keep in touch with the Alliance base down the road. Given that they'd been running joint operations to both find his people, attend to clearing out remaining Cerberus forces; and anything else that they could help with, it only made sense.

He activated the unit – sort of a crude, non-mobile omni-tool – and Armitage's hologram appeared over the transmission plate.

"Armitage."

"Primarch." The older human smiled. "Good morning."

Victus briefly glanced up at the dismal morning outside his office window but said nothing. He wasn't sure if Armitage was being sarcastic or was just used to this kind of weather. He nodded in acknowledgement.

"What can I do for you?" Victus was fairly sure that Armitage hadn't called to just say hello.

"To the point." Armitage looked off to the side and sighed. "I wish more of my officers were that focused."

Victus gave a soft chuff of amusement at that. Many humans weren't all that comfortable with Turian bluntness, so to speak.

"Looks like we've got a situation developing in Wales – Pontypool to be exact."

Victus tapped his implanted translator in confusion. "Did my translator get that right?"

"Sorry, it's a city in Wales." Armitage smiled ruefully. "The Welsh have a language of their own, separate from English and many of their translations confuse us."

"All right." Victus made a mental note to research Wales, the Welsh, and their native language. If Armitage was confused then he was certain most of his people would be. Standard English was puzzling enough as it was to the average Turian – even with translators.

"There's a national park/forest just outside of Pontypool and we've gotten word that Cerberus X-Shocks have been glimpsed there." Armitage was serious, as well he should be.

Victus had never encountered X-Shocks but Vakarian had and his description of humans mutated into barely sentient killing machines had been chilling. In the final days of the war – Cerberus had tried to make Reaperized troops without using actual Reaper technology. Vakarian had privately thought that the Illusive Man had wanted troops that answered only to him and not Harbinger. No doubt thinking he could wrest control from the Reaper at some point.

Garrus had said that they were barely sane, feral, clever, and deadly in the groups they traveled in.

"Are there any Krogan in the area?"

Armitage shook his head. "No, the last Krogan was evaced out of the area about two weeks ago. They're centering in Egypt – more like Tuchanka, I guess."

"Sounds like they waited till the heavy troops were out of the way." Victus was grim.

"That's what I thought – which means they're saner than we'd like – and we need to deal with them now, before they start hitting the local towns."

"Have you anyone who's fought them?" Victus knew, from what Vakarian had told him, that they'd need their most experienced people for this mission.

"Not many." Armitage sighed. "Though some of the Maori have faced them."

Victus nodded. "I've also got a couple of men who've dealt with them more than just once." The main one of those being Vakarian, and since Doctor Jakan had finally cleared him for patrol – Victus would put him in charge of any Turian troops. (Upon first seeing him, Jakan had felt that Garrus hadn't gained back enough of the weight he'd lost in the past six months and wouldn't clear him for duty until he had done so.) Victus had privately agreed and had reinforced his order with Vakarian when Garrus had objected - loudly.

"Say a squad." Armitage went on. "Eight of my people and eight of yours."

"Should be adequate unless there are a lot of X-Shocks."

"So far the reports don't mention many of them."

"They're X-Shocks – it doesn't take but a few." Victus was grim as Armitage nodded.

"There is one other thing.." Now Armitage looked uncomfortable.

"Yes?"

"The Commander in charge of Pontypool's military base is…" He cleared his throat nervously. "..somewhat unsure of aliens."

Earth Firster, Victus thought privately. He and his people had run into a few of them – most had some connection to the Relay 314 Incident. With a few exceptions, most of his people could put up with their speciest crap – as Vakarian would say.

"Oh?"

"He won't really be comfortable unless there is a human in charge, sir. I'm sorry." Armitage was truly distressed.

"We usually run joint operations anyway." Victus did what he could to allay his discomfort. "I'll make sure whoever is in charge of my people knows to defer to your officer." Here he paused and fixed Armitage with a hard stare. "But whoever I send will not be silent or over ruled if he thinks something will go wrong or troops will be hurt."

"I wouldn't have it any other way, Primarch." Armitage looked relieved.

"You said the Maori had had some experience." Victus went on. "Do you want to have your people bunk here on the estate, while we deal with this?"

"That would probably be for the best." Armitage sighed. "We've still got way too many people here for comfort. Many more and they'll be living in tents out on the parade grounds. Not ideal living arrangements."

Victus had to agree. Even modern tents could only keep out so much of the very damp, very rainy weather that seemed to persist around here. The two men went on to other matters.

 **Garrus**

Having escaped from, yet another, boring meeting, Garrus had headed to the armory. He knew there were still weapons that needed cleaning and repair. It was a quiet way, a good way to occupy himself until Victus had a mission for him.

At least now he could go on missions. He'd fretted for 3 whole weeks at being forced onto medical leave; but neither the doctor nor Victus would budge. Truth be told, he'd actually been secretly pleased to be doing nothing more strenuous than light work and eating; after months of fighting and struggling. Not that he had much of an appetite. For a moment his heart clenched at the thought of Shepard, then he forced all thoughts of her out of his mind, for now. That sorrow was for the quiet hours of the night when he was alone.

When he entered the armory, there were the usual number of soldiers working on their weapons. They looked up briefly, acknowledged him, and went back to what they were doing. In the side room he could hear Lantas Temkal instructing a bunch of cadets. He didn't envy them.

Temkal tended to be too impressed with his tier, to paraphrase what Joker often said about Alliance brass.

Putting that out of his mind, he went over to an open work station after pulling a Mantis off of the repair table. He wished he were working on his perfectly moded Black Widow; but the MAKO had done a number on more than just him; and his broken Widow lay safely in storage on the Normandy, Chakwas and Vega had seen to that.

While he set to work to disassemble the weapon, Temkal brought his group of cadets out into the main room. There were only six or so. Temkal was treating them like they were raw inductees; but all these youngsters had seen battle against the Reapers in one form or another. They might not of been hardened soldiers but they didn't lack for courage or – there was the sound of a piece of armor hitting the ground – he groaned inwardly – or luck.

There was a scrabbling as cadet Hendan quickly picked up whatever piece of his armor had fallen off - this time. He seemed to shed various pieces of his armor with no, as the humans would say, rhyme or reason. Though Garrus still didn't totally understand that idiom, it fit.

It was like armor didn't want to stay on Hendan any longer than was necessary. Of course, well fitted armor – not whatever they'd been able to lump together to give him a complete suit would probably not have fallen apart so much, if at all.

Hendan bent over to pick up the arm piece that had fallen off and when he straightened back up he bumped into the parts table for the various weapons. Several boxes banged into each other and one box of universal trigger parts hit the ground with a clatter as pieces of trigger scattered in all directions.

With an audible groan of his sub harmonics, Hendan knelt down to start picking things up.

Before he could get started, Temkal stormed into his personal space, damn near knocking the stripling over.

"Clumsy!"

Trying to avoid Temkal, Hendan jerked away and banged into the parts table yet again. Fortunately this time, nothing fell off. Hendan had barely made it upright when Temkal again invaded his personal space, forcing the cadet to back into the parts table for a third time.

"You are a waste of space and time…" Temkal hissed into his face.

"Enough." Garrus stepped into Temkal's space and the other man spun to confront him.

Temkal had been the only Praetor on the estate before Garrus' arrival. The younger man, though only by a couple of years, had been highly displeased. Garrus, meanwhile, could have cared less; and went about his duties quietly.

This was the first time the two had come into contention with each other. Temkal bulled his way into Garrus's personal space. Garrus took one step forward into Temkal's space; and their eyes locked. Temkal wasn't the biggest Turian at the embassy; but he was imposing. Unfortunately for him, Garrus was his equal both in rank and in physical stature.

It was obvious from his sub harmonics and physical stance that Temkal thought that Vakarian would give way first. Garrus about let go with a derisive snort at that, after Reapers, Collectors, Husks, and the occasional Thresher Maw – an over aggressive Turian male was nothing to Garrus.

It took a few moments for Temkal to come to the realization that Garrus wasn't going to back down and that he just might have met his match.

Before this dominance fight could escalate into physical confrontation; something Garrus was certain that Temkal would resort to rather than step back.

"Praetors!" Snapped a commanding voice and both men looked up to find Victus standing in front of them. Instantly they came to attention – confrontation forgotten.

"This is not the place for dominance battles – keep it in the sparring area." Victus said coldly.

"Yes Primarch." That was Temkal.

"As you wish, sir." That was Garrus, who was being more guarded with his sub harmonics than usual.

 **Victus**

Victus looked around and took in the cadets, the spilled trigger parts, and Hendan; and he let out a little hum of exasperation.

"Cadets pick up those trigger pieces, then go to your assigned duties. Temkal they require you down on the training grounds." Victus ordered. "Vakarian, Hendan with me."

Victus led Garrus and the cadet outside and down the hallway a bit to an empty room. From the various stacks of boxes and oddments of furniture obviously a storeroom of some sort.

"All right, what was that about Vakarian?" Victus leaned against a desk and stared at his erstwhile 'Reaper' advisor.

Vakarian shrugged, a trait he'd picked up from the humans, crossed his arms over his chest, and stared back.

Victus sighed internally, wondering again just why he'd appointed Vakarian an Advisor. Vakarian was exceptionally adaptive; but sometimes his attitude was beyond annoying. Victus rubbed a claw over his forehead as he felt the first twinges of a headache building.

"It's my fault, Primarch." Hendan spoke up hesitantly, his voices wavering, "I was clumsy." The boy stared at the floor, unable to meet Victus's eyes.

There was a faint mandible clic of irritation from Vakarian as both men stared at the cadet. Who seemed to visible wilt under their gazes though he couldn't see them. Victus was privately glad to see that Vakarian wasn't any happier than he was with the youngster's attitude. He had a good idea now why Vakarian and Temkal had been facing off in the armory.

Spirits knew the stripling was uncoordinated. Garrus had called him clumsy and Victus had to agree; but he was just entering that last growth spurt all Turians hit right around the time of basic. A growth spurt that sometimes led to the Turian in question becoming uncoordinated, Hendan just seemed to have taken that to the extreme.

You didn't blame or attack a cadet for what nature was doing to him; Spirits knew the youngster was trying. Unbidden, he remembered Vakarian saying one day after a particularly trying episode with Hendan – very trying! He locked down on his chuff of amusement.

Watching Vakarian eye the boy with concern, Victus suddenly had an idea.

 **Garrus**

Victus didn't normally alarm Garrus; but he let out a hum that if it had mandibles on it would have been wearing a smirk. And he was staring straight at Garrus when he did it. Nothing good was going to come of that look.

"Vakarian, you need an aide." Victus spoke up, sounding entirely too self satisfied. "Cadet Hendan you are now assigned to Praetor Vakarian as his aide. From now on your orders will come from him; and your duties will be centered around what he needs or wants. Is that understood?"

Hendan looked as startled as Garrus was irritated.

"Yes sir." The cadet glanced over, fearfully, at Garrus. Seeing that look, Garrus hid his irritation. Kid didn't deserve that.

"Hendan. There's a spare bed near where I'm bunked – go put your stuff there." Garrus told him calmly, knowing that aides stayed near their assignments.

Hendan looked to Victus who nodded that it was all right for him to go. Once the cadet was out of hearing.

"What in Spirit's name was that about, Victus." Garrus grumbled. "I DO NOT need an aide. I'm not doing anything."

"Then we'll have to change that." Victus returned cheerfully, with a smile.

Privately Garrus wondered what charges would be leveled against him if he tried to punch Victus out.

As if divining his thoughts, Victus's grin just got bigger.

"Don't push it, Primarch." Garrus growled under his breath.

Victus fronted a look that was entirely too innocent for Garrus; but before he could get himself locked up for striking the older man. Or, at least, trying to – Victus's look changed. He grew more serious.

"I know you don't need or want an aide, Vakarian." He explained. "But his parents sent him to me to mentor, and I need to put Hendan with someone who's able to accept his growth awkwardness."

Garrus's irritation vanished. While he didn't like it, he did understand Victus's thinking. Boy was a walking disaster; and letting someone like Temkal be in charge of him would only make everything worse. He'd be twice as nervous and, no doubt, do twice as much damage physically, and that didn't even speak to how it would affect him mentally.

"His parents thought he'd be safer with me."

"What!" Garrus was startled. "Then they weren't paying attention. Planetary and Military leaders were always the prime targets for the Reapers."

"They didn't have our overview of what was happening, and weren't paying attention to anything but Palaven and our colonies." Victus explained. "So, I did my best to keep him as far away as was safe for him without being too far away." Garrus nodded.

"I don't think he's suited to be a soldier – either front line or support." Victus sighed. "He just doesn't seem to have the hard mentality for it."

"I'd say tech or breaking cyphers." Garrus suggested. "I've seen him shut down an automated turret in record time during exercises."

"Ah, I'd thought of that; but wasn't sure if I was really seeing any of those abilities or just hoping they were there." Victus sounded relieved.

"All right, I'll accept him as an aide." Garrus paused and glared at Victus. "But I'm not going to forgive you for that; and you get to repair or replace whatever he breaks or messes up."

Garrus gave a chuff of amusement as Victus frowned realizing that he hadn't given any thought to that little problem.


	3. Chapter 3 - Preparations

Greetings All. No, haven't forgotten about you all. Working on all my stories and hoping that you're still enjoying them. As always thank you to all those who have faved, are following, or have commented - you all make this worth while. This Universe and these characters belong to Bioware I'm just having fun with them.

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Preparations

 **Victus**

"I'll be keeping an eye on you and Hendan, Vakarian." Victus said. "Remember his parents are very traditional."

Garrus's sub harmonics signaled Irritation at that.

"So do try not to infect him with too many outlandish ideas." Victus got a very sour look from the younger man at that.

"I'm not going to become something I'm not, Victus." Vakarian stated.

"I wouldn't expect it or ask it of you." Adrien knew that, protestations to the contrary, Garrus was actually much less of a bad Turian than he claimed. "Just try to keep it to one shock a week."

Garrus scowled but gave a mandible click of agreement.

"Meanwhile, Armitage has asked for our help." Victus got down to business.

"Another Cerberus round up?" Now Garrus perked up.

"No. He says that X-Shocks have been seen over in Wales."

Vakarian was suddenly grim but then he looked confused. "Giant Sea Mammal?"

"No, it's a small country attached to England." Victus explained. "He wants to send out a joint squad. Six from each group. I want you leading our people. You're one of the few who have extensive experience with X-Shocks."

"Then I'll need your best, Victus." Garrus was the battle-hardened soldier now. "X-Shocks aren't husks or brain addled Cerberus – these are basically enhanced human mechs."

"You pick who you want. You know what's needed." Victus trusted Vakarian implicitly in that regard. Suddenly Garrus got a horrified look.

"Spirits, I hope you're not expecting me to take Hendan on this mission." Garrus exclaimed.

"Hardly." Victus reassured him. "This mission is no place for an inexperienced youth."

"No place for a battle tested veteran, either." Garrus commented and Victus gave a little click of agreement.

"Are there any Krogan in the area?"

"No, unfortunately the last ones left for Africa about two weeks ago. Armitage says the X-Shocks weren't seen until after they'd gone."

Vakarian growled at that. "I don't like that. Sounds like they were just waiting for their biggest opponents to clear the area."

"Armitage and I thought the same thing."

"Not good then. These X-Ss sound saner than most and that's what we don't want. The half crazed ones are actually easier to deal with."

"Anyway to drive them crazy?" Victus had no intention of risking anyone's life unnecessarily, be they Turian or human.

Vakarian thought about it for a second then Victus saw the plates over his eyes lift as he seemed to think of something.

"I..might have an idea; but it's just that, an idea." Vakarian was honest. "I don't know if it will work."

"Whatever you need. You're our resident expert."

Vakarian sighed. "Why do I keep getting tagged as a resident expert?"

"Because you have the experience." Victus told him, barely keeping a smirk off his face. That got him another scowl and some very rude sub harmonics.

"Is that anyway to address your Primarch, Vakarian?"

"It is if he's being annoying." Garrus shot back and Victus had to laugh. That was one of the things he'd liked about Vakarian. He could be respectful when it was called for; but if he thought Victus was out of line – he wouldn't hesitate to call him on it.

Victus appreciated his honesty – it kept the older man grounded.

"There is one more thing." Victus told him.

"Oh?'

"Armitage says that the commander of the military base in Pontypool…"

"Ponty….what? Did I hear you right?"

"Wales appears to have its own language, and a very odd one at that." Victus explained and Garrus clicked his mandibles. "Anyway the commander of the base there isn't really comfortable with non-humans."

"Earth Firster?" Garrus's voice was flat.

"I don't know; but nominally whoever Armitage sends to be in charge of his squad will be the outward leader."

"Meaning?" Garrus was calm.

"He or she will appear to be in charge but will share equal leadership with you."

"I wouldn't accept it any other way." Vakarian stated. "With X-Ss you have to be able to change your plans in an instant."

"I told Armitage that and he agrees." Victus told him. "Go pick who you think will be the best for this mission, and whatever equipment you need. If we have to send up to one of the orbiting ships we will. The Alliance people will be bunking here so if there is any training you think we and they need get it lined up."

"We should get in a little time working together so our teams can mesh before we hit…Pointylake or whatever." Garrus said.

"Set it up. Everyone needs to be as prepared as they can be."

Vakarian nodded and excused himself. Almost, but not quite, running into Hendan, who was lurking outside, as he went out the door.

"Praetor, I'm sorry…." Victus's mandibles tightened to his face at the near squeak. Boy hadn't quite hit the peak of that last growth spurt – when he did, his voice would fluctuate like the radiation of a dying sun for a couple of weeks and then finally settle. The older man did not look forward to that time; but, at least, Vakarian would be understanding. He would probably need ear protection but he'd be understanding.

On one of those long ago nights on Menae before the Reapers had arrived, Garrus had mentioned that his last growth spurt had not occurred until after several months in basic. Despite it being decades ago, Victus clearly remembered just how cruel new recruits could be to their less developed comrades.

 **Whiteson**

After he'd gotten word from the Primarch, Whiteson set up a new barracks. Fortunately, the Turians had sent a great many of their people up to the dreadnaught to make the journey back to Palaven so there were several buildings to chose from. He picked one that was close to the living quarters of his ground crew for the humans. He also readied quarters for a more senior officer in the mansion – just in case.

There was another building nearby that he set up for the Turians – not being sure if they would want to be close to the human half of the squad. He was still learning how the Turians operated. Though he'd found that in many ways they were much the same.

Late that afternoon he got a call on his omni-tool from the Primarch saying that the Alliance squad was due in momentarily.

He went around to the front of the mansion where he found Victus and Vakarian waiting on the front steps.

"Whiteson." Victus greeted him and Vakarian nodded politely. The younger man tended not to talk too much. Again, Whiteson had the distinct feeling that he'd seen Vakarian somewhere before; but before he could try to figure it out a human APC and a staff car turned in at the main gates and made its way up to the mansion.

"Should we keep the APC or send it back?" Victus asked Vakarian.

"Keep it." Vakarian said. "In an emergency we can use it to ram the X-Shocks."

"That's not standard procedure, Vakarian." Victus frowned.

"It works for Geth armatures." Vakarian gave a snort of bitter laughter at that; but before Victus could question him, and answer Whiteson's unspoken question, the APC rolled to a stop in front of them.

The staff car had pulled in, in front of the APC. The doors opened and Armitage and another man got out. Whiteson liked Armitage – though not a local man – he tried to work with the local forces. Something not all of the surviving Alliance senior officers did or even tried to do.

He also recognized the second man and cursed under his breath. He'd thought he'd been quiet but he caught the faint flicker of motion as Vakarian's eyes slotted slightly in his direction. He had a feeling he'd be hearing from the younger man soon. As he turned to see who was coming out of the APC, he caught another flicker of motion. This time it was Victus. Whiteson sighed, looked like he be facing both Turians, at least they weren't at war.


	4. Chapter 4 - Comparisons

_Happy Holidays All, however you celebrate. Kinda got sidetracked by the holidays; but I'm still writing. I hope you enjoy the next segment of this story. I'll try to post more frequently. Thank you for all your kindness and comments. Cheers._

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Comparisons

 **Victus**

Victus put aside whatever had concerned Whiteson. Since the Turians had come to the estate, after first learning, which things Turians did one way, but humans did another, Victus had come to rely on and trust in Whiteson. He knew the estate manager would come talk to him when he could about whatever it was that he'd seen or heard. He also was well aware that he was far less versed in human behavior then Vakarian so he was glad of Whiteson's perspective on people and situations.

Smiling, Victus loudly greeted Armitage. "Lieutenant Colonel John Armitage." Armitage scowled. Victus was using his rank deliberately to tease him. He heard a faint chuff of amusement from Vakarian that he ignored. The younger man knew what he was up to and found it amusing. Victus seemed to remember that Vakarian and the Normandy's pilot had much the same sort of situation going on; but the pilot, Joker if he remembered rightly, was far more ascerbic than either of the two soldiers. Vakarian hadn't minded and had given as good as he got.

"Greetings, Oh Primarch of Palaven General Adrien Victus." Armitage executed a very crisp salute. Adrien's mandibles clapped tight to his jaw at that.

It was sort of a low key sparring that the two had inadvertently fallen into. Armitage preferred laid back; and Victus hated someone addressing him by all his titles. They didn't keep score they just tried to, as the humans said, one up each other. Other than this very juvenile behavior, Victus truly respected Armitage as a man that took his oath to his people, his country, and his planet dead seriously.

Armitage had pointedly ignored fame and notoriety in favor of doing his job and looking after those in his command and under his watch. A very Turian attitude to Victus's mind.

Their silly feud aside the two men shook hands. They'd come up with a version of a handshake that was a blend of both. Grasping wrists instead of hands and/or forearms.

Armitage's people had formed up behind him. Right next to him was a man wearing a Major's insignia, if Victus read it right. He was, what was the human's said, rather beefy looking with reddish brown hair and a beard. ( _Though Victus had never figured out what a food animal had to do with it)_ Wearing a clean, neatly pressed uniform and leather jacket. He looked, to Victus, who could be wrong, as if he was a man with few doubts. Victus envied him that ability. Being a leader, whether General or Primarch, had brought him a whole host of worries and concerns, never mind the doubts.

Behind him, the rest of the humans were in clean, moderately unwrinkled uniforms; but nothing fancy. That was one thing you could say about armor, it didn't wrinkle…usually; and if it did – you had far more serious things to concern yourself with.

The head of the squad seemed to be a female Sergeant. Tall and rangy with dusky skin and dark hair and eyes. She'd seen heavy combat, if the look in her eyes and the scars on herself and her weapons were anything to go by.

Two other humans, Victus wasn't sure of their rank, stood just behind her; and as they assembled – two of the Maori came up to join them. The older man and the female sergeant saluted each other as the younger one fell in line with the other two, then the older man joined them. Victus thought there was a bit of familial resemblance between the two Maori; but he wasn't sure. Again, he hadn't spent as much time among humans as Vakarian had.

With the Reapers gone, thank the Spirits, part of why he kept Vakarian as an Advisor was because he was so much more familiar with humans than any of Victus's other staff. He'd already helped them avoid a couple of situations that, at least, had only been embarrassing rather than anything else.

"Primarch." Armitage said. "Thank you for your help."

"With X-Shocks you can never have enough help, or so I've been told." Victus replied, indicating Vakarian.

"Armitage, this is Praetor Vakarian, he'll be in charge of the Turian half of the squad."

"Praetor." Armitage squinted at him and frowned slightly. "Do I know you?"

"No. As you humans say – I've just got one of those faces." Garrus replied calmly. "Lieutenant Colonel."

Armitage scowled at that then glanced at Victus who gave him a faint smile.

There was a certain amount of muttering under his breath from Armitage as he turned to the man next to him.

"Primarch, Praetor, this is Major Mitchel Howell, he'll be leading the human half of the squad." He introduced the younger man. Who beamed and stepped forward immediately, holding out his hand.

Carefully, Victus took it. Most people on first meeting a Turian tended to be a bit leery of their natural armament – that is the talons, the teeth, and their plates.

Howell seemed to have no reservations as he very firmly shook Victus's hand, surprising the older Turian. Howell wasn't too strong for Victus, he was just more overt than Victus was expecting.

"General Victus, it's a pleasure to meet you." Howell had a bit of a booming voice. Not overloud; but Victus hoped he'd curb it on the battlefield, where silence, when stalking, was to be preferred.

He turned to Vakarian next and stuck out his hand. Vakarian took it; but Victus noticed that he altered his stance slightly before doing so. Howell's exceptionally firm handshake became muted as Garrus didn't allow himself to be shaken so exuberantly.

"Major." Garrus smiled; but again Victus noticed that his reaction was low key, rather firm.

"Praetor." Howell was startled, for a moment, by Vakarian's reaction then he recovered. "You've got quite a grip there."

Garrus shrugged, a habit Victus knew he'd picked up on the Normandy. "I need it for handling my sniper." He replied levelly, not boasting but simply stating facts.

"Major Howell is one of our most experienced officers where Cerberus troops are concerned." Armitage went on.

"As is Praetor Vakarian. He's dealt with X-Shocks several times in the past." Victus told them. As per Vakarian's request he didn't elaborate on where that was. Garrus had been one of the first to run into and deal with Cerberus X-Shocks; and it was his observations and those of the Normandy ground crew that everyone else had used as a guide.

"And he's still standing." Howell commented. "That's impressive." Then he made a motion at the side of his face. "That where you got this?" Victus noticed the female Sergeant frowning slightly at that.

The squad hadn't really worked together yet; and Victus thought the Major's question to be rather prying; but Garrus took it calmly.

"No, mercs." Was all he replied. Then he went on, "I'm still picking my team – I want soldiers who if they haven't fought X-Shocks then they've, at least, encountered Brutes. Those are the closest you'll find in the Reaper forces to the X-Shocks."

"Good tactic," Howell spoke up. "But they aren't the same."

"No they're not." Garrus agreed. "However, they rank about the same in power level – it's the intelligence level that differs."

Victus couldn't be sure but he thought that Howell was surprised by Garrus's level of knowledge. And he got the feeling that the human was a bit, not unhappy exactly, but uncertain about it.

"Can you introduce the rest of your squad?" Victus intervened.

"Oh." Howell turned to the others. "That's First Sergeant 'Flic' Mazera." He indicated the woman who saluted. "Master Sergeant Roberts." That was the older of the two Maori, who also saluted. "And Corporals Roberts, Essex, and Scott." They too snapped off a salute.

Victus nodded his head at the squad. "We've got quarters set up for you here." He turned to Howell. "Do you wish to bunk with your squad or do you want a room in the mansion?"

"In the mansion, sir." Howell smirked. "I'm sure my presence would inhibit my people."

Again, Victus thought he caught the trace of a some emotion flit across Mazera's face.

"Whiteson, can show you to your room, Major; and Vakarian will show your people to their quarters." Victus told them.

"Howell, I'll be with the Primarch in the dining room, when you've settled in, meet us there." Armitage spoke.

"Vakarian, get the squad settled and then report back to the dining room." Victus ordered. Vakarian gave a mandible click of agreement and signaled the humans to follow him. He led them around the outside of the mansion.

 **Garrus**

Garrus was glad to get away from the front of the mansion. He hated being out in the open with strange humans, too easy for someone to recognize him. So far, his not wearing his signature visor and adopting an older, mismatched suit of armor had kept his identity hidden. That and just keeping as Shepard, his heart contracted painfully at the thought of her, would say – a low profile.

"Excuse me, Praetor Vakarian." The Sergeant, Mazera he thought her name was, lengthened her stride to catch up with him.

"Yes, Sergeant." He stopped and turned to look down at her.

"Will we have access to an armory? Our guns and armor need a good cleaning. We just got back from being on assignment and weren't given time to clean up."

"Your quarters have an attached room that you can use for your weapons. In fact, the Turian troops that were quartered there, did use it for that." He told her. "I'll see to it that you've got all the proper supplies."

"Thanks, Praetor." She gave him a quick smile.

"Just call me Garrus." He smiled back; but wasn't sure if she would recognize a Turian smile.

"I'm 'Flic' Mazera." She stuck out a hand.

"Flic?" He shook her hand.

"Nickname." She scowled faintly.

He gave a short chuff of amusement, remembering Vega and all his nicknames. _Scars_ , _Sparks_ , and, again his heart threatened to shatter, _Lola_.

Before he could set off again she looked up at him.

"Hey, wanted to apologize for Howell."

He cocked his head in question. Apparently she'd been around enough Turians that she recognized the gesture.

"He's lacking in the social graces."

Again he looked at her curiously and she gestured at the right side of her face.

"Rather impolite of him to make mention of your face." She was scowling.

"He isn't the first and he won't be the last." Garrus commented, not really upset by it; though he hadn't liked Howell bringing it up, more for what it said about the man than that he viewed it as an insult.

"One of the last human kids I ran into thought I got my face caught in a 'harvester' – but he wasn't referring to the creature." Garrus told her, still puzzled.

Mazera grinned. "Oh, it's a type of machine used for harvesting crops. A lot of blades and gears."

"Ah. Now that makes more sense." Garrus exclaimed. "Thanks for the info."

"Er, do Turian kids make comments like that?" She seemed a bit hesitant to ask.

"No, battle scars are expected of our old soldiers." He told her. Not mentioning that his scars were now well known among his people. He'd been horrified when Victus had told him some of the children were actually trying to emulate him. Until the Primarch made it clear that they were just using make-up and not truly marking themselves. Finding out that there were adolescent Turian females that had a 'crush' on him had been bad enough.

Given his mother's reaction to some of his 'stunts', she would have confined him to his room and taken away his practice rifle if he even thought of such a thing. So he was fairly sure ( _he hoped_ ) that it would be a short lived fad among Turian kids, if their parents had anything to say about it. He shuddered to think what his sister would have to say to such adulation. Solana was way too creative when it came to teasing him.

"This building has its own heating system." He told Mazera. "You'll probably have to turn the heat down. Turians do not like cold."

"Then why the hell did you folk settle in England, sir?" Mazera commented, keeping up with him.

He thought about it for a moment. "Damned if I know, Sergeant."

She stared at him for a second and then started laughing. After a second he joined her, and with that the restraints of rank between them disappeared.

 **Victus**

Victus and Armitage had settled in the small dining room that the officers used. It was off the main dining hall.

One of the staff brought out some tea for Armitage and, surprising him, the last of the _Khaal_ for Victus.

"Did we find more?" He asked the serving girl.

"We did find an old tin with a couple of pellets in it, sir. But that's the last of it." She admitted.

He looked at the cup, the two pellets still dry, and sighed sadly.

"You'd best take this back for the regular mess, Adelaide."

"Begging your pardon, sir. But there are only two pellets left. That's not enough for even one of your people." She told him honestly. "I don't think any one of them would begrudge you this little bit of home. You're already eating exactly what they eat and they know it."

Victus looked at the _Khaal_ a moment longer. "All right; but try to extend it as much as possible. Praetor Vakarian is due here shortly and I'm sure he'd also like some."

"It'll be weak, Primarch."

"Weak or not, as you say, it's a bit of home."

"Running out, Victus?" Armitage was steeping his tea. He liked it dark and strong as he once told Victus.

"We sent most of the rest of it to the **Taetris** for the journey home." Victus admitted.

"That was good of you." Armitage checked his tea but decided it needed more seeping.

"It is a taste of home; and some of our people are suffering not only physical wounds; but serious mental ones as well. Anything familiar can help heal." Victus told him.

"I'm sure a couple of my people have contacts in the black market – I'll let it be known that I'm looking for some." Having decided that a very dark brown was just the right strength of his tea, he poured it into his cup and added several sugars. Victus always thought that if he made it less strong he wouldn't need so much sugar; but it was probably a human thing. Spirits knew they did so many other odd things.

After a quick sip and another spoonful of sugar, Armitage finally took a long drink and sighed contentedly.

He glanced around for a second as if looking for someone then turned to Victus.

"I wanted to apologize for Howell."

"Oh?"

"He's the only officer, currently on base, with any experience with X-Shocks."

Victus got the impression that there was something more than just that.

"Is there something wrong with him?" Now Victus grew serious. "If he's incapable of being a leader, I won't risk my people."

"No." Armitage shook his head. "He can lead. He's just…"

"Too damn impressed with himself." Came Whiteson's sour voice as he stalked into the room.

"Howell?" Armitage began, concerned.

"He's unpacking." Whiteson said scornfully, obviously disapproving. "One of the grounds keepers will bring him here when he's done." He tapped his omni-tool to indicate to Victus that the man would signal when they left.

"He's a bit of braggart." Armitage added. That got a snort out of Whiteson. "Though he's a pretty good officer, he thinks he's seen it all."

"None of us have seen it all where Cerberus is concerned." Victus was solemn. One drunken night, Vakarian had once told him some of the horrors they'd found and destroyed in various Cerberus labs; and sometimes he wondered how the younger man dealt with it all.


	5. Chapter 5 - Ground Rules

_Hello All. Happy Friday. I hope all is going well for you. I'm still feeling my way with this story. I have an idea where I think it should go; but sometimes stories get it in their heads that that's NOT what they want to do. We'll see. So I may be a little slower in posting on this one then the others. Meanwhile thank you to all ,and for all the favs, follows, and comments. They make my days. Cheers._

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Ground Rules

 **Victus**

"I don't like the sound of that, Armitage." Victus stated. "Everyone has to work together cohesively if we're to eradicate the X-Shocks without anyone getting hurt."

"I know." Armitage ran a hand through his somewhat thinning hair. "If I had another officer – Howell wouldn't be in charge. He's good but, as Whiteson said, too impressed with himself; and not as flexible as he could be."

"Vakarian can probably deal with that kind of person; but I want him to have final veto powers. I WILL NOT send my people into a situation where they might get hurt." Now Victus was a General not a Primarch.

"All right." After a bit of hesitation, Armitage acceded to his demand.

"Whiteson, have you anything more to add?"

"Howell's a local boy. Always been something of a braggart." The older man told them.

"Braggart?" Victus was puzzled by the term.

"Boastful, over proud of what he does or says." Whiteson explained.

"Oh, we call those Chipeeks."

The two humans looked at him, puzzled.

"Ground dwelling lizard. During mating season the males build piles of rocks that they perch on. The bigger the better. Then they puff up their chests and try to push each other off their nests with a lot of booming and snarling." Here Victus had to smile in remembrance. There'd been a small colony near his home, and sometimes at night it had made sleep difficult. "During mating season it gets pretty loud around a Chipeek colony."

Whiteson snorted at that description. "That sounds about like Howell. I can just imagine him as a small, red faced, puffed up lizard, booming his heart out. Maybe he's a reincarnated Chipeek." It was Victus's turn to let out a chirp of amusement at the thought.

About then Whiteson's omni-tool let out one soft tone.

"They're on their way." He told the others.

"What about the rest of the squad?" Victus asked. He'd talk to Vakarian later, alone, so the younger man knew what he was getting into.

"Sergeant Mazera is one of the best, that's why I made sure to include her. Don't know if she's faced X-Shocks; but she's faced almost everything else from Brutes to Banshees." Armitage said. "She's worked with aliens too. Turians, Salarians, and the occasional Krogan; and never a complaint." He paused. "Well, just one. She said one of the Krogans kept using the APC for head butt practice."

That got another chuff of amusement from Victus.

"An excellent record; and from what I understand, that's the kind of background you need to deal with X-Shocks." Victus was pleased to see that Armitage was working to give the squad all the advantages he could.

Not long after that Howell came in with one of Whiteson's ground crew. The man showed the Major in and then excused himself.

Howell greeted everyone familiarly even Armitage. He was a touch more circumspect with Victus.

"Where's your man, Primarch?" Howell settled himself in a chair next to Armitage.

"Vakarian is seeing to your squad getting settled in." Victus replied. He didn't say that in a situation like this, many Turian officers would have seen to their squad's comfort themselves. After all, the success of a mission was mostly dependent on your soldiers. Turians didn't pamper their people; but neither did they ignore them.

"Are your quarters comfortable, Major."? Victus went on.

"Pretty good, all things considered, Primarch." It wasn't a condemnation but neither was it as good as it might have been. Out of the corner of his eye, where Howell couldn't see, Victus saw a scowl cross Whiteson's face; possibly insulted.

Given the state of everything after the war, the Turians had been pleasantly surprised with the mansion. True it was set up for humans and perhaps colder than they'd like, but Whiteson and his people had done all in their power to make the Turians comfortable. After the hardships of the war, Victus and all his people had appreciated their efforts. The Major almost seemed to expect something more.

About then Vakarian came in. He saluted Victus and the others, and then settled in a chair along side Howell, but nearer to Victus.

 **Whiteson**

Realizing that they were about to get into the details of the mission, Whiteson excused himself. His clearance was such that he could have stayed; but he left out of courtesy to the senior officers.

About an hour later as he was going over things with the cook since they had to enlarge their levo menu and output to accommodate Howell and his people, his omni-tool signaled. It was the Primarch to say that the meeting was over and Armitage's limousine needed to be brought around to the front.

The Driver/Sergeant was actually in the kitchen, so he hastily gulped down his coffee, grabbed a couple of cookies, thanked the cook, and headed for the side door to the parking area.

Whiteson went through the mansion to the front door where everyone was seeing Armitage off. The Lieutenant Colonel kept it short – except for saying goodbye to Victus by using all his titles. Whiteson was aware of the ongoing verbal sparring between the two men and he had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing out loud at Victus's obvious displeasure.

Howell and Vakarian were both outside; but as soon as the limousine headed down the drive, the Major went back inside. Vakarian stayed with Victus.

The younger man was a mystery to Whiteson. He, in truth, didn't act like most of the other Turians. Also the other Turians seemed to regard him with some – well Whiteson wouldn't exactly call it awe; but there was a certain level of respect they gave him that they didn't give any others at the mansion. And there was that constant sense that he'd seen Vakarian somewhere before.

Victus had signaled for Whiteson to join them as they went back inside, heading for the officer's mess.

As they came in the door, the sun had shifted enough that it was now shining through the decorative stain glass panels on either side of the main window. Irregular bands of color were splashed across the room. Whiteson had always enjoyed being in the room when that happened. As a kid he'd loved letting the sun formed colors ripple across his arms and face. Sappy he knew, but his pleasure hurt no one.

The two Turians also seemed to enjoy the light show.

"Purple is not your color, Victus." Vakarian snickered, pointing to the large diamond of purple shining across the Primarch's face.

"Well orange isn't yours, Vakarian." Came the retort as Victus shifted.

"I look good in any color." Vakarian retorted, almost preening.

Whiteson gave a small snort of laughter. Who would believe that the Apex Predator Turians could find delight in something so simple. Humans and Turians were more alike then they thought.

"And yellow doesn't look well on you, Whiteson." Victus observed.

"Yellow doesn't really looks good on anyone but a duck, Primarch." Whiteson returned and the Turians chuffed in amusement.

Vakarian shifted about then so that a rich band of blue ran down the left side of his face over his eye. Whiteson stared at that and him for a moment and then it hit. Blue, as in a visor that was as well known as N7 armor; and instantly he remembered where he'd seen this man before. This was Vakarian, Garrus Vakarian, the man who'd followed Shepard throughout her entire fight for the galaxy. The man he'd always seen in the background of any picture of her. Towering, alert, guarding her back. Hell, no wonder the other Turians gave him respect. Man was a damned hero in most everyone's book.

Unknowingly he must have made some sort of noise or something because Vakarian glanced at him, and after a moment, a resigned look came over his face.

"You've figured it out, I see, Whiteson." Vakarian didn't sound happy.

"Figured?" Victus began then he noticed the band of blue running down the younger man's face. "Oh."

"Yes. I.." Whiteson didn't tend to get tongue tied; but being faced with one of those who directly helped save earth rendered him near speechless.

Victus quickly stepped to the front of the mess and closed the doors, as he did Vakarian turned away from the others.

"I told you that someone would figure it out, sooner or later, Garrus." The older man said as he walked back to Whiteson's side.

"I had hoped that no one would recognize me." Vakarian's voice had gone very quiet.

"I…er…thank you, Praetor..you.." Whiteson began, regaining control of his voice.

Vakarian waved away his thanks, dismissively. "It was all Shepard. I was just guarding her six."

"You were also responsible, Vakarian. She could not have done it without you." Victus spoke up. Again the younger man just waved away the complement.

With a mandible click that Whiteson was beginning to recognize as resignation, Victus turned to the human. "Garrus is trying to keep a low profile I believe you say. He would, we both would appreciate it if you didn't mention this to anyone."

"But…" Whiteson was startled. "He's a hero..a…"

"Shepard's the hero." Vakarian snapped, turning to face them. Whiteson was still learning to read Turian expressions; but he thought that the younger man was upset, maybe even sad. "I'm no one special."

Victus let out a deep sub harmonic hum that was near a growl at that. "Accept that you are, Vakarian. Enough though, Whiteson will you keep his secret?"

"Of course." After a moment he ventured. "You could have ordered me to keep silent, sir, instead of asking."

"No. You're not one of my people and I consider you a friend." Victus replied and Whiteson felt his cheeks briefly color. Hearing that from the Primarch meant a lot to him; he'd come to respect the Turian.

"I'll tell no one, Praetor, and I'll keep an ear out to make sure that no one else figures it out." He promised the younger man.

With a mandible click of what Whiteson assumed was agreement, Vakarian stalked out of the room. After a moment the human glanced at Victus.

"Would I be out of line if I asked what is going on, Primarch?"

"I don't know myself." Victus admitted. "But something is driving him to hide his identity."

"An assassin?" Whiteson knew they'd really have to beef up security if that was the case.

"No, it's not that; but I'm not sure what it is, except that I think that somehow Shepard is involved in it." At Whiteson's startled look. "No nothing she's done or is doing but something somehow related to her. But whatever it is – he will not tell me."


	6. Chapter 6 - Digigrade

_Hey Good Folk, I haven't abandoned you or this story. It's just taking longer now as the stories are getting more complex. I always do this to myself. Deep sigh. Many thanks for the kind favs, follows, and comments. When the rest of my life could use a reboot - you guys make my day. As always these characters and this universe belong to Bioware - I'm just having fun with them._

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Digigrade

 **Garrus**

Garrus headed out of the mansion. He didn't know where he was going; but knew he needed quiet and solitude. So, of course, he ran into Hendan. He sighed mentally. The boy's hovering was going to get annoying so he'd have to get him to stop. Besides, the best aides were never obviously visible; they were just there when you needed them.

"Praetor." Came the squeak. Kid was gonna be squeaking for the next several months till he hit his final growth spurt.

"Hendan." Garrus kept his thoughts to himself. The cadet needed to get used to him first before he started trying to teach him anything. Something inside of him rebelled at using the word training for this. Kid wasn't a varren and this wasn't a training situation. Teaching – yes, training – no. Combat moves, military tactics, and weapon usage now those required training until any of them could be done half asleep, in the dark, or wounded. Ingrained muscle memory not conscious thought.

"Would you get together a month's worth of armor and weapon's cleaning supplies and take it over to the human squad's barracks."

"Yes sir."

"After that, your afternoon is free. I'll call when and if I need you." Garrus wanted to be alone, so he made sure the youngster wouldn't come looking for him. At least, he hoped the boy would get the hint.

As Hendan turned to go, one of his vambraces loosened, but he caught it before it could fall off.

Garrus kept careful control of his face and sub harmonics until Hendan was out of range and then he let out a disbelieving hum. The boy was a walking disaster; but Garrus could empathize with him. When Garrus had been going through his own last growth spurt; it seemed like if he even looked at something it would get knocked over and more often than not - broken. His mother had finally put away all her good breakables until he got through it. His father had just given a disbelieving mandible click and locked all his antique weapons away. Garrus hadn't known whether to be glad or insulted by that.

Once he was sure that Hendan was off to do what he'd been ordered to do. Garrus had to decide where he wanted to go to be alone. Not the training field, nor the secondary sparring ring. Then he had it. It was lunch so most everyone would be eating, so he'd go to the arena. The APC mechanics would be at lunch and the Maori would also; though he'd learned that the humans weren't out there everyday.

With that he headed for the large building near the back of the estate. When he got there he peered in the door and saw that, as he had surmised, the Turian mechanics were gone and there were no humans around. He slipped inside and closed the door enough to keep the wind out. It was too damn cold to sit in a cross draft. The lights were on down at the end of the arena where the APCs were parked; but up at this end they weren't. It wasn't completely dark but it was dim and it fit his darkened mood.

He was able, this time, to come into the arena proper without going through the stables. He had no wish to distress the horses and no desire to cause the humans to have to chase them down.

There were some small bleachers on either side of the arena. ( _What chemically removing the color from something had to do with sitting down – he had no idea_ ; _but – humans_.)

The bleachers were made for sitting, but not for a six-foot plus Turian in full armor. He spent several minutes trying to find some kind of comfortable position. He finally had to settle for leaning ( _carefully_ ) against the seat behind him, his feet up on the railing of the arena. Even then, he was balanced on the back point of his armor.

Once Garrus was sure he wasn't going to rock out of position if he moved suddenly, he gave himself over to his thoughts. Spirits knew he needed to. About this mission, and what he was going to do about Shepard. Now, alone, he let out the faintest of keens. Garrus wanted to cry his loneliness to the sky, to keen until his throat was raw; but knew he couldn't. He was a Turian, a soldier, a leader – not some soft plated youngling whining about his first stress relief.

But logic lost to emotion and for several minutes he just keened quietly to himself. Spirits, he missed her and needed her; but Admiral Renfield ( _he let out a snarl of rage)_ had made it clear that it was Shepard who would suffer if he stayed around or came near her. Besides, he had heard the rumors, knew them to be true, knew that she didn't remember anything from way before Eden Prime. So, she wouldn't even remember him, wouldn't remember what they had had, or what they had hoped to have. At that, he keened again until his voice boxes were aching.

Damn, but he was turning into a whiny youngling, incapable of maintaining his composure. But even as he thought that, deep down he knew why he couldn't. Their, Shepard and his, bond was too strong. He'd known though he hadn't told her that what they had surpassed just a simple bond – they were mates, even more than that they were lifemates. He didn't know how or why; but they were. Joined together until they journeyed to the Spirits.

As he sat there, keening quietly to himself, or as quiet as he could be, he heard footsteps. Instantly he stopped keening and got control of himself. By the sound of the footsteps, it was a human; but not a male he thought. Most of the human males on the estate bulked a lot heavier than that.

Whoever it was paused at the door and slowly slid it open. He found himself looking at Sergeant Mazera.

She looked, to him, like she was hunting for something or someone. After a moment, she made him out in the dimness and she smiled faintly, hesitating at the door.

"Praetor?"

"Vakarian is fine, Sergeant." He motioned her in.

"Then just call me Mazera." She slipped in and closed the door thank the Spirits. Some humans seemed to have an addiction to leaving doors open. Fresh air fanatics he heard them called – fresh air lunatics was more like it.

"What can I do for you?" He cocked his head in inquiry.

"Some scrawny youngster in mismatched armor dropped off some cleaning supplies to us." She explained as she settled against the arena railing.

"Ah, that would be my aide, Hendan." Garrus had to admit to himself that Hendan had a long ways to go before he'd achieve the size of a normal Turian male.

She gave a snort. "Who makes a wet behind the ears kid like that an aide? If you don't mind me asking?" Garrus didn't really recognize the idiom but he got the meaning.

Garrus briefly thought of the smirk on Victus's face when he'd assigned the cadet to him. "Someone with an evil sense of humor."

Mazera gave a bark of laughter. "Damn, remind me not to piss off whoever it was."

"I don't think you have to worry." He reassured her. "Did Hendan bring you everything you need?"

"That's actually why I was looking for you." She admitted.

"Your supplies were incomplete?" Garrus hadn't thought that Hendan would be derelict in his duties; rather he thought that the boy would be over conscientious.

"No, we got everything, but a couple of things are primarily designed for Turian weapons and I wasn't sure how well they'd work on our weapons." She told him.

"Crap!" She grinned at his expletive. "I'm sorry Mazera that's my mistake, I told him to take all the necessary supplies over to you but I didn't specify that they should be for Alliance weapons."

"No problem. We just need to get the right stuff." She paused and got serious. "Given all that I've heard about X-Shocks, we're gonna need every weapon in top shape."

"Dealing with X-Shocks makes me wish that there was such a thing as a hand held Thanix cannon." He was honest.

She whistled at that and he winced.

"Sorry, I forget that that bothers you guys."

"You've worked with Turians?" Now he was honestly curious.

"Partnered up with a group of Turians and Krogan near the end of the fighting. Oddest crew I've ever worked with but they were damn good." She told him.

"Turian and Krogan and they weren't trying to kill each other." Garrus was frankly amazed. The vast majority of Turians and Krogan still weren't too fond of each other.

"Yes, well.." Mazera grinned. "Down time was reaaaly interesting. You never knew if they were just sparring or trying to take the other guy's head off."

Remembering some of his sparring with Wrex and Grunt, Garrus commented. "Sometimes there isn't much difference."

Mazera laughed at that. "True. Sounds like you've sparred a time or two with a Krogan."

He shrugged. "Once or twice. It's different." Unbidden he thought of the many matches, sometimes more fights, he'd had with Wrex on the SR-1. He had a few with Grunt on the SR-2, but the tank bred was a more dangerous partner. Wrex could, most times, control himself; but even after his rite, Grunt remained impulse driven. From what little Garrus had learned, his imprinting from the tank had made a point of making Turians and Salarians out to be mortal enemies. You didn't knowingly go up against someone who in the heat of sparring just might give into his training and smash you flat against a bulkhead.

Mazera eyed him for a moment and he hoped she wasn't going to ask him any questions about his interacting with Krogan. Very few Turian, for the moment, did it willingly.

Just then the door to the outside rolled back. Garrus and Mazera's hands both went to their pistols; but they relaxed when the Maoris came in.

Sergeant Roberts was somewhat in the lead and he stopped at the sight of Mazera and Garrus. The others following his lead once they realized why he'd stopped.

"Sergeant, Praetor." The older man didn't salute but he straightened up in respect.

"Sergeant." Mazera greeted him.

"Sergeant." Garrus nodded.

"We didn't mean to interrupt." He began.

The other two shook their heads. "No interruption." Garrus told him. "We were just talking. If you're going to practice do you want us to leave?"

The older man looked a bit surprised which made Garrus wonder if he'd had trouble with other Turians.

"No, all are welcome to watch." With that Roberts signaled to his people and they slipped inside. Again, fortunately, closing the door behind them.

Garrus shuddered though as they took off their jackets and shirts, barring their chests.

Mazera glanced over to him when he made a little sub harmonic sound of protest.

"Aren't they cold?"

"Probably but it's part of doing a Haka." She explained.

"Crazy humans." He muttered under his breath and from the grin she flashed, Mazera had heard him.

Once they started up, he could see, in part, why they bared their chests. It made the sound louder when they slapped their chests. Still did nothing to convince him that they weren't crazy. Even thinking about it made him tweak the heat controls on his armor a bit higher.

They only had a drum to set the rhythm but even something so simple resonated with Garrus, even if it wasn't a Turian beat. During one of Mordin's rambling lectures he'd mentioned, in passing, that music beats for each species seemed to be based off their heart rates. The Asari had the most complex, the Krogan the strongest, yet many of their were were oddly complex, almost rivaling the Asari. Humans and Turians were in the middle and, in some ways, alike. Engrossed in talking to Mazera about the mission, Garrus found he was bouncing his foot in time to the beat.

He hadn't realized that the Sergeant had been watching him, until during one pause.

"Praetor?" The older man turned to him.

"Yes, Sergeant?"

"Do your people have such traditions?"

Garrus thought for a moment. "Like this – no. We have, what someone I know called, kata. A series of strikes and counter strikes that can be done to a beat; but, at most, it's for two, maybe four people. It descends from our ancient combat training; but it's become ritualized.

"Good, you have no bad habits to unlearn. Come join us."

"Ah…er…I don't really dance, Sergeant."

"This isn't about dancing so much as letting the warrior out." Roberts returned.

Garrus hesitated and found himself the center of ten pairs of eyes. All the Maori and even Mazera. Even in the dimness, he thought he could see the faintest of smiles touch the Sergeant's lips.

"Come on Praetor, let your inner warrior out." She encouraged. Crap, now he knew she was smirking not smiling.

"My inner warrior is fine where he is – thank you." He glared at Mazera whose smirk just got bigger.

"Afraid of a little dancing." She murmured and he scowled.

She reminded him, a bit, of Shepard; but more she reminded him of Ash but without the xenophobia.

He started to open his mouth to protest again.

"Should we not share cultures, Praetor." That was Sergeant Roberts and with a sinking feeling Garrus knew he was trapped.

Spirits knew, Victus had been encouraging them to get to know the humans and their various cultures. He was all for it; except when it called for him to make an idiot of himself.

With an outward sigh, and some sub harmonic cursing, he nodded and stood up, sidling past Mazera.

He walked out to join the Maori. Roberts nodded to him as did the other men.

"Pardon me if I don't take my armor off." He explained before someone could say something. "Turians don't do well in the cold and I'm still recovering from the war."

There were nods from several of the men and that was that.

After a few minutes of trying to copy the older human, it became obvious that they ( _he_ ) would have to modify their movements to fit Turian physiology. He couldn't squat the way they did because of the way his legs, hips, and digigrade feet were jointed. Kneel yes – a wide legged, flat footed stance – not so much.

The slapping his chest part he got just fine; in fact he rather enjoyed it, he'd been a rather noisy youngster. His armor added a different, louder sound to their chant.

His intimidation face though was decidedly animalistic between his teeth and his mandibles. He wasn't sure how the older Roberts was going to take it; but the man gave him a gesture that seem to indicate that it was fine.

 **Mazera**

She sat back and watched the practice, chuckling to herself. She didn't know the Praetor, _Vakarian she corrected herself,_ very well; but he was turning out to be far more relaxed than most Turians she'd encountered, and watching him attempt to learn a Haka was, as a friend would say, a hoot.

The door slid open slightly behind her; but before she could turn to see who it was, it was shut again.

She thought, at first, that no one had come in, but then she heard the faint creak of armor and she began to make out what looked to her like another Turian.

Then she heard a soft chuff of amusement from a distinctly non-human throat.

 _Yep, Turian_ , she thought to herself.

Once again, Vakarian tried to emulate the wide legged stance of the dancers. He came off looking like a scarecrow trying to do a sumo stomp.

At that the Turian, who'd moved up next to her, started laughing out loud.

Vakarian whirled at that and after a second groaned.

"Lurking now, Victus?" He snapped.

"No. Just watching my advisor engaged in a cultural exchange." Came the smug reply.

Mazera realized suddenly that it was the Turian Primarch who was standing beside her and shot to her feet.

"Sir!"

"At ease, Sergeant." Victus told her. "Sergeant Roberts, gentlemen, please don't let me disturb your practice."

"Yeah." Came the grumble as Vakarian nodded to Roberts and left the practice. "He's just here to give me a hard time."

"Would I do such a thing to such a valued Advisor?" Came a protestation that even Mazera was dead sure was as insincere as they came.

"All the damn time." Vakarian retorted, glowering at the other man who just gave a soft chuff of amusement.


	7. Chapter 7 - Parameters

_Happy Weekend All. I hope all is going good for you. Really sorry for the delay on this one; but I can't seem to get a good fix on which way this story wants to go. Not Writer's Block so much as Writer's confusion. Anyway thank you for all your support. Your favs, follows, and comments keep me going when my brain hurts. LOL Have a great one._

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Parameters

 **Mazera**

"I didn't know that you'd taken up dancing, Vakarian." Victus commented. She couldn't be sure but she thought she could faintly feel the sub harmonics that indicated that he was amused possibly even teasing the younger man.

"Did you just come out here to make fun of me, Victus? Or is there some legitimate reason?" Vakarian retorted to Mazera's quiet surprise.

Adrien Victus was the most powerful Turian on Earth – hell, the most powerful Turian of his race. Knowing what she'd learned about Turians and how their chain of command functioned; the way Vakarian had responded to the Turian Primarch spoke volumes. One that the two men were friends, most likely close friends if she were to guess. Two, it probably meant that Vakarian himself was of a high tier and/or looked upon with respect by other Turians, though the two usually went hand in hand.

If he was, he was definitely one of the more laid-back high-tiered officers she'd ever run across. Most of the ones she'd run into so far acted like they had a pole shoved up their asses. And, on occasion, she'd been sorely tempted to take that pole and beat them over the head with it. Snooty didn't even begin to cover how annoying they could be.

The Primarch let the air whistle past his teeth in what she recognized as the Turian form of a sigh.

"Armitage called, apparently the X-Shocks seem to have begun to move out of the remote area they're in."

That instantly caught Mazera's attention.

"We're going to need to get up there as quickly as possible then." Vakarian was suddenly grim.

Victus gave a mandible click of agreement, all traces of teasing gone.

"We still need a day or two of our two squads learning how to work together. We can't afford to get field orders confused or not know what the rest of our squad is capable of." Now Vakarian was every inch a Turian commander.

"Agreed." Suddenly the Primarch turned to Mazera. "Sergeant, you're in charge of the enlisted? Yes?"

Startled by being addressed directly she nodded vigorously before she found her voice. "Yes, sir."

"Then we need you and the Major to meet us in the conference room in about a half hour. Vakarian, I need you and your second there also." The Primarch ordered.

 **Garrus**

Garrus had already picked his squad. Most were veterans ( _and survivors_ ) of encounters with Brutes. A few had actually run up against X-Shocks. All of them could, would, and had worked with each other. He was actually the odd man out in this squad, the only one he'd worked with was Sergeant Jask Hazlon his second in command. They'd been together on Menae. He'd been glad to see that the veteran had survived, many from Menae hadn't.

Garrus contacted Hazlon and asked to meet him out front of the conference room. The older, battle scared veteran was leaning against a wall, working on his talons when Garrus walked up. He was from the small mountain city of Delvas on Palaven and sported deep green marks on his upper fringes. The better to be spotted at a distance. His armor like Garrus's had seen a lot of battle and gone through even more repairs.

"Praetor, I salute you." Hazlon straightened up and gave him a version of the Turian salute.

"Enough Hazlon, it's just Vakarian." Garrus sighed. The older soldier had seen some odd human vid on something called the Roman empire somewhere and insisted on greeting Garrus like he'd seen the actors do.

"But you are a symbol of the Empire's best." Hazlon retorted and then smirked.

"And this symbol is going to dump you on your ass in the sparring ring, again, if you don't stop with the Roman stuff." Garrus grumbled and Hazlon chuckled as he put his gloves back on.

"What's up Vakarian?"

"The X-Shocks have begun to move out of their encampment."

"Spirits. Anyone in their way?" Now Hazlon was serious.

"At the moment I don't think so; but we both know that won't last." Garrus was honest.

"No."

About then Victus walked up. Howell and Mazera were not far behind him.

 **Victus**

"Officers." Victus indicated the conference room and they all entered.

It was a simply furnished room when it came to furniture. The walls however were hung with old paintings of humans in some of the strangest clothes he'd ever seen. When Whiteson informed him that people actually used to wear these outfits, he'd been astonished; but put it down to something else weird about humans. He'd begun, privately, to think that weird was a permanent part of being a human.

Besides the ornate paintings there was a large table and an eclectic collection of chairs. Some were designed for humans and some had been crudely modified for Turians.

Whiteson and his people had made a point of going around the mansion and modifying all the chairs that they could. The older more antique ones they'd had to leave alone because of their age. Whiteson was slowly moving all the antique ones downstairs to where the 'fancy kindling' was being stored.

Victus, and his people, appreciated the courtesy. Maybe the modifications were crude and not too successful; but that the humans had even tried meant a lot to every one.

Vakarian and Hazlon ( _a good choice, Victus thought, remembering the man from Menae_ ) settled near each other, after some quick introductions between the two groups. Howell settled near Vakarian; but Mazera was sitting somewhat behind him.

Wanting everyone at the same distance, Victus signaled her to move closer to his desk. With a silent nod, she complied.

For a moment, Howell looked like he was going to say something; but then he realized what Victus was doing and settled back in his seat.

Though he wouldn't say anything out loud; he would pass all of his observations on to Vakarian. Years of being in charge, even if it was Turians and not humans, had made him very aware of the slightest nuances of behavior; and Garrus's years of being around humans had given him the ability to decipher behavior that would puzzle or elude most Turians.

Howell was exhibiting, granted, and thankfully, they were minor, signs of being overtly rank conscious. Turians were far more rank conscious, in a different way; but when it got in the way they could discard it. Well, at least the people Victus had under him. He'd learned over the years that too strict adherence to things could, as the humans say, bite you in the ass.

However, it had annoyed the Hierarchy enormously, particularly as his unorthodox tactics had proven to be highly successful. When he became Primarch, a number of his most vehement critics, the ones still alive, had been highly distressed. A few even, so it was rumored, had gotten seriously drunk.

Frankly, at the time, with the assault on Palaven, being made Primarch, and everything else – he'd almost felt like joining them. But duty was bred into his bones and he hadn't given in to that temptation.

But when Tarquin had been killed; he'd broken down for one brief moment, one night, and sought oblivion in a bottle of brandy. First his wife and now his son. Garrus and then the Commander had appeared from nowhere and kept him company – maybe not matching him drink for drink; but they hadn't abstained. Allowing him to talk when he wanted, or talking when he couldn't.

The Krogan leader – Urdnot Wrex had come by at one point; but before he could say anything sarcastic, the Commander had gotten up and literally shoved him down the hallway. Victus, despite the alcohol, had been startled – watching the small human manhandle the hulking Krogan. He was very aware of a fierce conversation of rumbles and hisses from where they stood. After a few moments there was a final growl but the Krogan leader had stalked off in another direction. Shepard had come back to the mess table and rejoined them.

Victus awoke the next morning – heart sick and hung over; but his moment of weakness was over; he locked away his sorrow and fought for his planet, his people. As he would always do.

"According to the Alliance personnel in the area.." Victus called up a topographical map on his desk comm. "..the X-Shocks have been staying in this area…" He illuminated a very rocky, very remote section on the map. "But now they've begun to move out. Fortunately, very slowly."

"Ah, sir." Mazera cautiously held up her hand. "What's the weather like in that area?"

Everybody stared at her but Victus called up the weather report for the area.

"We fight in any weather, Sergeant." Howell commented. From the angry look that flashed across Mazera's face for a second – she hadn't appreciated that remark.

"Apparently, the weather is extremely unsettled at the moment." Victus told the woman, wondering what she was hinting at.

"Then we may have more time then we think." She said, cautiously.

"Explain." That was Howell, still sounding, at least, to Victus somewhat condescending. Noticing the look on Vakarian's face, he was sure the Major wasn't supporting the Sergeant as he should.

"When we were working with the Odd Squad." She began.

"Odd Squad?" That was Victus.

She flashed him a brief smile. "A mixed squad of Turian and Krogan."

"Odd indeed." Hazlon remarked dryly. "I'm surprised they stopped fighting each other long enough to fight X-Shocks."

"Hazlon, enough." Vakarian said mildly. "Sergeant Mazera please go on."

"One of the Krogan scouts mentioned that he'd noticed that the X-Shocks tended to seek cover when an electrical storm was brewing. Also that with some of them, when it was raining, he'd catch the faint scent of mechanisms over heating."

"You think they're susceptible to the weather?" Vakarian asked. "I've not…not heard of that before."

"From all I've heard they've not been on too many worlds – so they might not have been built to withstand such bad weather." Mazera stated.

"You're willing to take the word of one Krogan?" Howell spoke up and again Victus caught the flash of anger on the woman's face. Whenever Howell was commenting on something, it was always just this side of being dismissive or sarcastic. Not the way to get the best out of your people, particularly ones you've never worked with.

"Krogan sense of smell is equal to Turian." Garrus stated. "And on Tuchanka they've had to learn to read the signs to stay safe from sudden sand squalls, varren packs, and Thresher Maws, without the aide of scanners or omni-tools." He thought about it for a few moments then, " I'd say go ahead with our exercises but have the Alliance keep a close watch on the X-Shocks. If the situation changes then we should be ready to leave in an instant."

"Major, what do you think?" Victus, wisely, brought in the human commander.

"You trust this Krogan?" Howell addressed himself to the Sergeant.

"Yes sir. His observations were bourn out by our own." She returned confidently, staring Howell down. "Granted, fighting in a thunderstorm is miserable for anyone in armor, but anything that gave us an edge against the X-Shocks was appreciated."

"We should still get the APCs ready to travel." Howell nodded briskly at her.

"Agreed." That was Vakarian.

"Tomorrow you can start joint maneuvers – get used to each others style of fighting." Victus told them. They all looked at each other and agreed.

"Er…" That was Vakarian, looking uncertain for a change.

"Yes Praetor?" Normally Victus would be more informal with the younger man; but given the humans he decided to stay more formal.

"Perhaps, we should all have dinner together tonight." He said hesitantly then added. "I understand that's what Commander Shepard did with her ground crews." Victus knew then why he was so hesitant, he always tended to be when he brought up Shepard.

"Dinner?" Howell was startled, his eyebrows twitching upwards. "Why eat together?"

"Why not and it's easier to work with someone if you've passed them the salt or the ketchup." Mazera grinned.

"Ketchup." Hazlon's mandibles clicked. "I like that idea."

"You'd like anything if ketchup was involved with it." Garrus grumbled. Victus hid a grin, obviously Hazlon was one of those Turians who'd developed a fondness for the condiment.

"I guess." Howell looked slightly displeased. Victus began to wonder if the man interacted much with his people, or if he used rank as a barrier between them. There was a fine line between being a commanding officer and interacting with your soldiers. Victus had always tended towards the being in charge side of the line, while, he was certain, Vakarian tended towards being more approachable. Depending on the officer, the squad, and the situation, both had their merits.

"All right." Victus tapped on his omni-tool, sending Armitage's report to them all. "I'll get vehicle maintenance to ready the APCs for immediate travel. And all of you meet for dinner. You can discuss your various strengths and strategies and get used to one another." Here he smiled, "I'll, what is it you humans say, stay out of your hair."

He heard Vakarian mutter something about – _not likely_ – in his sub harmonics.

They all stood to leave.

"Praetor, I'd like to speak with you." Victus said crisply.

"Yes Primarch. Hazlon, go tell the others."

Hazlon saluted Garrus and Victus and with a nod to the humans, left. Moments later Howell and Mazera followed him out, talking together Victus was glad to see.

Once he was sure that they were alone again. He sat down and motioned to Vakarian.

"You believe this weather thing?" He asked as the younger man sat.

"I've never seen it; but then I've never fought X-Shocks in the rain." Garrus said. "And Krogans are exceptionally good at noticing things in their environment, particularly their enemies."

"All right; but I wouldn't count heavily on it." Victus told him.

"No intentions, besides I don't want to be out in a lightning storm in heavy armor – no matter what dampeners it has." Vakarian grimaced at that.

"Better get your armor checked out then, make sure the dampeners are working and up their capacities."

"Given the power of lightning strikes around here, nothing we do may be strong enough." Garrus sighed

"Do whatever you think will help." Victus told him. "Now, what do you think of the humans."

Vakarian let out with a hum and his mandibles clicked. "Mazera's good, she'll fit in well with our people; and if she had any input in picking the others then the squads will mesh fairly well.." He paused.

"But?" Victus urged him.

"Howell may be a problem."

"I was afraid of that." Victus sighed.


	8. Chapter 8 - Condiments

_Happy Memorial Day weekend all who celebrate. If you don't then a Happy weekend anyway. As I said elsewhere, sorry for the delay. Real Life and a bit of the downers have slowed me down. Apologies. Then this story I'm not quite sure where it's going. It's headed somewhere but I think I lost the map. Anyway, thank you for all your attention and your kindnesses. Favs, follows, and comments keep me going when I just want to lose myself in a tub of coffee ice cream. Sigh. As always I'm not perfect and if you spot a mistake please let me know. Cheers and have a great weekend._

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Condiments

 **Garrus**

Dinner that night started off a very awkward affair. Most of Garrus's squad hadn't worked extensively with humans. Most of Howell's crew, excluding Mazera, hadn't worked much with Turians.

Garrus and Mazera, he had no idea where Howell was, introduced the two groups to each other. Sergeant Jask Hazlon, head of the squad under Garrus, his soldiers – Yelter, Tocsin, Renna, and Malda. On the human side – under Sergeant Mazera were the Maori – Ihaka and Ari Roberts, Scott Essex, and Evan Scott

Sitting down at the same table and breaking bread as the humans said, ( _And wasn't that an odd phrase_ ) both sides looked like they would have welcomed a pirate incursion with more pleasure. Neither side really liked, though they pretended, the smell or look of the other side's food. To add to the problem, Tocsin was eating an obscure delicacy, _Ladaak_ , a kind of snail that had to be eaten alive. That wouldn't have been such a problem except that ' _dinner_ ' kept trying to escape the plate. Humans didn't tend to eat their food alive and, as Mazera told him, trying to make a break for it.

Tocsin got momentarily distracted; and most the _Ladaak_ staged a mass escape and he then had to chase down his dinner and dig them out from under various pieces of tableware, much to the uncertainty of the humans.

"Are all Turian dishes this…"Mazera paused and smirked, obviously more amused than horrified "…mobile."? She'd sat down across from him and the two of them had been having a fairly good conversation while they watched their people not interacting, and wondered what they could do about it. Jack, who held the same position on Garrus's squad as she did on the humans, was sitting to Garrus's left, listening quietly.

"Some are, but we usually don't eat them in front of non-Turians." He sighed. "But right now, getting anything other than military rations is almost impossible."

"Oh." Mazera grinned. "So there's a higher up somewhere doing without his or her fancy food?"

"Actually no. Seems that _Ladaak_ " he indicated the snail like things, "..can be raised in the evaporation pans for our ships environmental systems."

"They're not supposed to be there; but…" He trailed off as Tocsin had to grab another one before it climbed into the sugar bowl.

"But there's always someone who's figured out a way to get around the regs or doesn't even pay attention to them." Mazera supplied.

"That's almost unheard of on a Turian vessel; but there are always one or two." He admitted.

He was peripherally aware that Howell still wasn't any where around; but as he went to ask Mazera where the Major was – the impasse broke.

One of the human squad – Evan Scott looked over to see Jask upending most of a bottle of ketchup on his dinner. Not that military rations wouldn't benefit from a little flavor but Jask carried it to extremes, at least, where ketchup was concerned.

"Er, you want a little dinner with that ketchup?" He finally asked, awed.

"Spirits, don't encourage him." That was Tocsin, chasing down yet another _Ladaak_. "He puts ketchup on everything. He'd put ketchup in his _Khaal_ if you gave him the chance."

Jask ignored the snide remarks. "You people just don't appreciate a good thing."

"You don't appreciate it. You overdo it." Came the retort from the entirety of Garrus's squad.

Surprised, there were chuckles and snorts from the humans at that, which elicited amused chuffs from all the Turians save Jask, of course.

After that, with the ice broken, or the ketchup squeezed, the two groups found it easier to talk among each other.

"I had one guy in one of my first postings, he put jalapenos on everything." Ari Roberts, spoke up. "Jalapenos dried, fresh, and pickled. I don't even know where he found them."

There was a groan from a couple of the others. "You mean 'fire spit' Sanchez don't you?"

"Fire spit?" That was Jask, finally finishing putting ketchup ( _emptying the bottle_ ) on his dinner.

Garrus had to admit privately that he probably wasn't going to be able to taste the rations since there was now more ketchup than food on his plate. A plus with this particular flavor of rations. Garrus swore it was made from old MAKO tires.

"Yeah, he ate so many of the damned things that his spit was near flammable." Scott Essex spoke up. Essex's accent was a lot crisper than some of the others. Aristocratic he'd heard it called. Well Turians from different colonies spoke with different accents also.

"What's a jalapeno?" That was Maas Yelter, Garrus's explosive expert.

"Little Green Fingers of Fire." Evan explained, which got puzzled looks from all the Turians.

"We'll have to let you try some." Ari added.

Garrus let out a sharp trill and all his people instantly looked to him.

"You can try a taste of this jalapeno thing only if you know you don't react to levo foods. If you invalid yourself out right before the mission, I will rip off your fringes." He promised them; but without a lot of heat. Garrus was one of the most laid back of the commanders, and his squad knew it. He also knew that they would not risk being taken off the mission, they were all professionals. There were mandible clics of acknowledgement from all the others.

After everyone had gone back to comparing postings, weapons, mods, battles, weird squad mates, and all the other mundane things soldiers talk about.

"Remind me to buy your sergeant a case of ketchup." Mazera murmured to him. "I was beginning to worry that they'd never talk to each other."

"Yeah, it's better to know one another than to try to get acquainted over expended heat sinks." Garrus commented while he was pushing his dinner from one side of his plate to the other.

"That bad?" Mazera inquired after watching him for a bit.

In answer, Garrus put a bite on his fork and held it up to a _Ladaak_ that had escaped Tocsin's notice. The creature leaned forward as if to taste or smell then abruptly snapped back into its shell with a little hiss.

She winced at that. "Ouch."

Garrus finally gave up on his rations and pushed them to the side. Half way ready to go ask for some applesauce. It might not have much in the way of nutrients but it would taste a hell of a lot better.

"Eh, sorry about Howell." Mazera was chewing something with more fiber than taste if her face was anything to go by.

"Why sorry? And I was going to ask where the Major was." Garrus admitted, both hands wrapped around his mug of _Khaal_ , enjoying the heat.

Mazera scowled. "He thinks he's too good to eat with the…" here she made those air quotes, so beloved of Councilor Sparatus. "….unwashed masses."

Garrus cocked his head at that, not understanding the term nor the explanation that his omni-tool provided.

"Unwashed masses?"

"Means the general public. In our cases it means the everyday soldier, the non-officers, the non-aristocratic." She explained.

Garrus let out a quiet trill at that. "Is he even going to be able to command in this situation? It's about experience and skill not who your parents were or what tier you are."

"Humans don't have tiers we have classes and Howell thinks his class is higher, read better, than all of us." She grumbled, then after a pause, she added.

"But to be fair, when it's all on the line, he can put his attitude aside and get the job done." Mazera was honest if reluctant. He liked that about her. Not everyone was capable of that kind of honesty.

As if speaking of him was some sort of call, Howell came walking in the door of the mess. He glanced around and spotted everyone. First getting his tray, he then walked over to the table.

Without a word, just a brief nod to Howell and Garrus, Mazera got up and slid her tray down to the end of the table, clearing space for Howell across from Garrus. Jask grabbed his plate and followed her lead. The two settled across from each other and Garrus was pleased to see that they were talking.

"Major." Garrus greeted him politely as he turned his attention back to the man.

"Praetor, how are the squads meshing together?" Howell signaled for Adelaide, one of the wait staff.

Garrus cast an eye down the length of the table where the Turians and the humans were interacting, at least more now than at the start of the meal. Yelter and Essex were avidly comparing notes on various ordnances. Garrus was a little leery of that. Yelter tended to get over enthusiastic about her explosions. Grunt would love her, hell, so would Shepard for that matter. Minimum expenditure, maximum carnage.

"They're coming along." He replied calmly. "It will take a bit."

Adelaide had come over in the mean time and she put a tea service, as the humans called it, on the table and in easy reach of Howell. Garrus still didn't totally understand the appeal of tea. Turians liked their _Khaal_ but not to this extent.

While she was at the table, Adelaide took the time to give Garrus more hot water.

"Thank you." Garrus smiled at her. Used to Turians by now, Adelaide recognized that he was smiling at her and returned it.

"Vakarian, Major." With a nod to both officers she was gone.

Another thing Garrus had learned was to let the humans get their tea fixed to their liking. If you interrupted them, they didn't seem to really be able to concentrate till everything was perfect. A specific number of lumps of sweetener and some white liquid they called cream. It could be a long involved process, fortunately Howell was relatively quick about it. A couple of lumps of sweetener and no cream.

"What kind of exercises should we put them through, Praetor?" Howell sipped his tea.

"Vakarian is fine, Major." Garrus told him, taking a drink of his _Khaal_.

"But you earned the rank of Praetor." Howell was surprised.

Garrus snorted at that. "I think the Primarch just gave me that rank so the Generals would listen to me." Howell seemed amazed at Garrus's cavalier attitude about his rank; and he began to see what Mazera had been talking about.

"We have to see how each squad works and what our strengths and weaknesses are." Garrus said.

"We'll start them out with a ten mile hike in full pack." Howell stated. Garrus was aware peripherally that several of the humans grimaced at that but said nothing. They weren't supposed to be listening, but the Major's voice tended to carry even in the semi-crowded mess.

"Why? We roughly know the shape they're in since they've all been on active patrols." Again he seemed to have startled the Major. After a moment he wondered if it was surprise or if the Major hadn't liked having his orders challenged.

"We more need to see and let each other see where their strengths lie and what they're all good at."

He thought for a moment. "Make it a one mile hike in full gear then run them through a battery of tests. Infiltration, shooting, sniping, drone deployment, hacking and technical sabotage, sniping, and hand to hand." He paused. "Though no one should take on an X-Shock by hand. That is, as you say, suicide."

"Ordinance?" Essex piped up from further down the table. Obviously, though they shouldn't have been, everyone was listening in on their conversation. Yelter gave several excited mandible clicks.

"We'll see Essex." Howell told the young man. Who looked disappointed at that. As disappointed as Yelter did.

Howell watched them for a moment and when they went back to their conversation.

"Let's try to keep ordinance usage off the table." The Major had dropped his voice though Garrus was sure that Yelter could probably hear them.

"Oh?"

"Remind me sometime to tell you the tale of the Admiral's car and how, driver less, it took out a mess hall."


	9. Chapter 9 - The Right Slot

_Hello All. I hope your weekend is going well and you're enjoying yourselves. Here's another chapter in Each In Their Own Way. As I mentioned, I'm still feeling my way into this story so my apologies if I'm slow or it doesn't go the way you want it to. If you have a suggestion, I'll at least listen. As always thank you for your many kindnesses, you give me a big reason to go on when my inspiration is dragging on the ground. ( Painful and it collects dust and stuffs) Take care all and have a terrific weekend._

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The Right Slot

 **Garrus**

He bolted awake, uncertain as to why. It wasn't a nightmare, or even light yet; but it was miserably cold. If it was one thing England did well – it was miserably cold. Well that and damp, rainy, and miserably cold.

There was a knock at his door and he realized then that was what had awakened him.

"Yes."

"It's Hendan, Praetor." Came a warbling voice. "You wanted me to wake you up."

After a moment his sleep-fuddled brain got up to speed. Oh yeah, the two squads were working together this morning. He had wanted to be there to see how things went. His second in command, Jask was more than capable of making the assessments; but Garrus just wanted to be sure. Too many years of watching Shepard evaluate her people and arrange her ground crews to optimize everyone's performance and get them all back alive. For the briefest of moments the thought of Shepard made him want to keen; but he held it in.

"Thank you, Hendan. I'm awake." He replied, stiffly making his way out of bed. Even now, months later, he was still recovering from being hit by a MAKO. He let out a small chuff of amusement when he could mentally hear Chakwas in the back of his mind scolding him for not taking better care of himself.

There was fumbling at the door and he realized that Hendan was trying to come in. He gave a little mandible clic of annoyance/amusement. When he had time he was going to get back at Victus somehow for sticking him with the youngster. He understood why; but that didn't mean he had to like it.

He slowly walked over to the door, favoring his still healing leg. It was always stiff in the mornings; and if it was cold ( _when wasn't it_ ) it was even stiffer. He opened the door and Hendan near fell into the room. At the last minute the youngsters caught himself; and the tray he was carrying, and stumbled into the room a few steps. Of course that pesky greave fell off – again. It was like it wanted no part of him.

Before he could drop it, Garrus deftly took the tray out of his hands. It had a Turian cup, a dish of meat strips, a small container of _Khaal_ , and a pot of hot water wearing, today, a fluffy pink covering. When he'd asked about the various pot covers he was told they were something called a – tea cozy. Their function was to keep the water in the pot hot. In this climate, he could understand that, what he couldn't understand was all the various colors, patterns, and the fuzziness. Oh well, humans and their weirdnesses. Unique qualities Shepard had loftily called it. Weirdnesses was what he secretly dubbed it.

"Thank you, Hendan, that was very considerate of you." He set the tray down on a nearby table, already having grabbed a dried strip of meat. Humans called that jerky for some odd reason. More human weirdness.

When he looked up, the boy's mandibles were fluttering in embarrassment. He made a point of appearing not to notice. He wasn't quite sure how the youngster processed things like compliments or corrections and he needed to find out so he could tailor how he worked with the boy. Some youngsters did well with hard line discipline, others not so much. Witness his own family; he wasn't fond of the hard line; though he had obeyed it, Solana hadn't minded it. Well, she'd always been the ' _good Turian'_ off spring in their family.

"Do you need help, er,…dressing." Hendan asked, looking a bit uncertain.

"No, I can handle my own armor." He told the boy. "Why don't you go get some food."

Even in the dim light of his bedroom, he could make out the sudden gleam in the boy's eyes. Seemed that despite everything else, the boy's appetite was very normal. Growing youngster – growing appetite.

Hendan excused himself, still carrying his greave and left to go down to the mess.

After he'd gone, Garrus realized that he should have directed the boy to the officer's mess. Now that he was an aide, his status had changed. Not that there was much difference in the food. Victus didn't believe in keeping all the good/fancy foodstuffs for the officers. In fact, he tended to feel exactly the opposite. The regular soldier deserved the good stuff, the officers could make do.

In that respect, Victus was much like Shepard. Both took care of their people to the best of their ability. Some saw it as a weakness; but Garrus had come to realize that, in the final analysis, strategy and tactics not with standing, battles could be won or lost by the regular soldier. And something as simple as having a good meal or some place to relax might make the difference in how a soldier fought.

Putting those thoughts to the side, he went over to start armoring up. He'd slept in his under suit as he did most nights. The under suit helped him to stay warm even though he must have had about eight blankets on the bed. The down ones had been very warm but they smelled like some sort of prey and he tended to sleep restlessly when he was under them. When he'd explained to Whiteson why he wanted different blankets, the man had been startled; but hadn't hesitated to get blankets for Garrus that weren't down.

In fact, Garrus heard later that the estate had brought in a load of non-down blankets for those Turians who couldn't sleep with the down ones. Apparently Garrus had been one of the first to want something other than the down blankets. Well, in the first months after the end of the war blankets had been the least of anyone's concerns.

Whiteson had sent some of those down blankets over to the Alliance base, others went to the near by village. These days nothing was allowed to sit on a shelf when somebody could find a use for it.

He gave his suit of armor a quick inspection to make sure everything was functioning; and then put it on.

It was a good, if battered and patched, mismatched suit of heavy armor. He'd deliberately not worn his old suit. Someone that had watched the news vids of Shepard might just recognize it. Also Archangel's insignia was emblazoned on one arm and with remnants of Aria's merc army still stuck on earth, he wouldn't take the chance that one of them might recognize it. That's why he didn't use his targeting visor unless it was absolutely necessary; though he kept it with him. Vakarian had been well known for his visor.

Once his armor was in place, he turned to his weapon's table and grabbed his Mantis and his pistols. For today those should be enough firepower.

Everything in his personal outfit seen to, he made his way down to the mess. He avoided the officer's mess most days unless Victus or one of the generals demanded his presence. There were a couple of junior female officers, twins of all things, who had been trying to get a little too friendly with him. He wouldn't have minded it so much; but they didn't seem to understand or accept that he wanted to be left alone. They barely restrained themselves when someone else was there. If it was just him and them, all bets were off as Joker would say.

As he came into the regular mess, he saw Mazera and the rest of the group – humans and Turians sitting at a table. There seemed to be a lot more talking, and joking going on between the two groups. Good.

He got a plate with more of the meat strips. Even if it was just a protein matt, still someone had managed to make it seem like pieces of a Palaven animal, and a large cup of _Khaal_. At least they had a relatively good supply of that. A Turian without _Khaal_ was very like a human without coffee – extremely grumpy.

He wandered over and sat down opposite Mazera. She seemed surprised to see him.

"Praetor Vakarian." She paused in the middle of taking a sip of coffee. Extremely strong if his nose was telling him right. Shepard had liked it that strong also. Strong enough for a spoon to stand up straight in it, Jacob had once commented. He hadn't quite gotten the reference but he could figure out what it was suppose to mean.

"It's just Vakarian, Sergeant." He told her.

"You won't take offence if I do?"

"No. Why should I?" He was puzzled.

"Howell would, in a minute." She explained. "He makes it clear that the lines of authority are to be precisely observed."

Thinking back to Wrex, Grunt, Zaeed, Jack, and even Miranda – he let out a chuff of amusement. The lines of authority on the Normandy, both of them, could be as twisted as a bunch of string sometimes. Other times they were perfectly straight; but in either case, the lines always ended up at Shepard. Their Commander, a friend, and, most importantly, his mate.

Mazera looked at him quizzically but when he didn't reply she didn't push. He was liking her more and more.

"So, we set out in about 45 mins on a one mile hike." Mazera told him. Jask had come over in the mean time and, as was his wont, was just quietly listening.

"Howell wanted ten, why did you bring it down to one?"

"I'm assuming your people have been out on patrols as have mine." Garrus explained. "No need to push them that hard. Besides their stamina isn't what I'm interested in. I want to know what specific skills they have; and how we can integrate the two squads."

At her look of curiosity.

"Worked with a couple of commanding officers who were hands on."

It wasn't even a lie, both Shepard and Victus had been those kind of commanders. Wanting to know as much as they could about their people, to better weld them into a cohesive force.

He had to chuckle mentally to himself – though he was reasonable certain that Victus had never volunteered to be one of a Krogan's Krant and take down a Thresher Maw.

The other soldiers had jeered and told him to be more realistic when he'd spun that tale one night on Maenae; but Victus had just looked at him like he was insane. The older man being the only one to realize that he was telling the truth.

"All right ladies." Mazera faced her people. "Fifteen minutes then we meet at the armory. Full packs – remember." There were a few muffled groans out of the group.

"As the Sergeant said – full packs." Jask told his people. Garrus caught a couple of sub harmonics groans out of the group. Seemed it was universal that soldiers didn't like distance hikes in full kit. He knew he hadn't.

Sometime later both groups met at the armory part of the human's barracks.

"Okay.." Mazera was snugging her pack down, "….Sergeant Jask will lead off since he knows the trails around here. Any questions?"

She looked to Jask and he nodded having picked that up from Garrus.

"All right, move out."

Jask echoed her. "One mile soldiers, and stay close."

Garrus knew Jask meant to not get too far ahead of the human squad. With their longer legs, and apex predator history, the Turians were sure to take the lead.

With salutes from Jask and Mazera, the two groups jogged out of the barrack's area.

Garrus didn't even wait to see them go off down a main trail before he headed for the large temporary training arena that the Turians had erected.

Jask would lead both groups back here after the run, where they'd be tested for everything from hand to hand to tech abilities. He'd modified a couple of Tali's Geth hacking programs to give to everyone. While they wouldn't fully stop an X-shock, nothing short of a Krogan could do that, they'd seriously slow them down. More so than they'd done to the Geth. He wondered if that was because X-Shocks were, at their core, still a little human.


	10. Chapter 10 - Fitting In

_Hello All. Hope you are having a great weekend. Still not quite sure where I'm going with this; but having a little fun. The over enthusiastic Yelter and Essex team just spontaneously suggested itself. Hope you approve. As always thank you for your interest, your favs, follows, and comments. You make my day. If I've made a mistake in regards to ordinance let me know - I'm no expert. If I've made any other mistakes let me know. I don't claim to be perfect. This complex Universe belongs to Bioware - I'm just playing with it._

* * *

Fitting In

 **Garrus**

Garrus checked to make sure that the technicians and soldiers were ready with the myriad of tests they were going to run. Of primary important were the tech exams, weapon's knowledge, and, oddly, hand to hand. Not that anyone should try to take on an X-Shock by hand. That was a guaranteed suicide. He wasn't sure even a biotic would do well in such a situation. It was more of a precaution just in case there were regular Cerberus troops with the X-Shocks, always a possibility.

It took about thirty minutes before the mixed squad began filtering back into the testing building. An old barn long since turned to a warehouse he'd been told. As he'd expected, his people were the first back; but Mazera and her people were not far behind. Good, that said that they were in similar physical shape. That would make working together much easier.

"Jask, how did they do?" He asked his Sergeant as the man put his pack down on the ground.

"I think our people are getting lazy." He remarked and there were several clicks and chirps of displeasure as the rest of the squad walked over to dump their packs. "They let the humans keep up with us."

"Excuse me." Mazera walked up, sounding irritated. "You didn't let anybody, we kept up with you and your freakishly long legs."

"Our legs are fine – yours are freakishly short and weirdly jointed." Jask snapped back. For a moment Garrus thought the two were about to get into a fight, but when they started grinning he realized that they were just teasing each other; and had obviously begun to develop a rapport. Excellent, as far as he was concerned. These two would be interacting a lot as heads of the respective squads.

"All right you two, start running everybody through the tests." He ordered, pulling up a chair. He wanted to oversee everything, but knew that looking over shoulders would probably only make the Turians nervous. Despite keeping a low profile, all the Turians knew exactly who he was and what he'd done. Embarrassed him to no end, and Victus's revelation that he was some sort of idol for the adolescent females had made him want to hide under his bed. Like Shepard he considered himself a soldier not a hero.

As Hazlon and Mazera started assigning their people to various testing stations one of the techs came over to him.

"Praetor, where should we set up the ordinance test?"

Remembering what Howell had said about Essex and what he knew about Yelter.

"No need, we're good there." He quickly assured the man. Blowing up half the estate wouldn't be a good idea.

He sat quietly at the table, watching the tests; and looking over the scores as they came in. From what he could see of the early results, the two squads were pretty evenly matched. He wondered then about creating groups of two with one Turian and one human; but decided that he'd hold on that idea for now. He'd ask Jask and Mazera, if anyone would know if their people would take to the idea, it was those two.

While he was sitting there, Howell finally came in. Looking well rested. Garrus hadn't really had a full night's sleep since he'd been driven away from Shepard; but a little lost sleep was nothing to keeping her safe.

He acknowledged the Major as he was handed a data pad with the results of the first tests. When Howell sat down next to him, he handed him another data pad with the first results.

"You didn't come to breakfast, Praetor." Howell stated as he started scrolling through the results.

He'd looked in at the officer's mess and spotted the Praxlit sisters before they spotted him; and, no other way to put it, fled. He wasn't at his most polite in the morning before his _Khaal_ and he was afraid that he'd say something he'd regret. Besides he'd really wanted to see how both squads were doing anyway.

"Got up late. Went down to the regular mess to see the squads off." It was only a partial lie.

Jask walking by behind them let out a disbelieving chirp at that, he knew all about the Praxlit sisters and their campaign to catch Garrus's eye; and anything else they could get their well-polished talons on. Garrus ignored him.

"You trying to make me look bad?" Though it was said jokingly, Garrus had been around humans long enough to sense the underlying displeasure in the statement. Howell didn't like that he'd gotten up early and was down here with their people.

"No." Garrus replied calmly. "My last two Commanders were the hands on type and I fell into the habit." No lie exactly; but he wasn't trying to get Howell upset this early in the mission. He was beginning to realize though that the man had something of a touchy personality.

For a few moments they were both quiet as they looked over the test results. Garrus noticed that the human, Evan Scott was pretty proficient with a Sniper as was Sergeant Flic Mazera. He'd have to challenge the two to a contest one of these days. He'd also intended to ask Mazera if Flic was her real name or some sort of nickname. Spirits knew he'd had enough of those with Vega around.

"They look pretty evenly matched." Howell finally spoke up.

"That's what I thought." Garrus put down his data pad. "Do you think we'd do better to have teams with one human and one Turian or stay in our current squads?"

Howell thought about it for several moments, which Garrus approved of.

"I think we should keep the current formation for the moment. Maybe later as everyone gets more adjusted to each other, see what natural teams developed."

"I concur." Garrus told him. Pleased that Howell was more than just an attitude and a voice.

The two sat quietly, though Garrus noticed Howell, surreptitiously, repositioning himself at the table. At first he was puzzled, then he realized that it allowed Howell to be quite obviously visible to his people. He decided then, he was going to have to get Mazera alone to ask her more about Howell. Speaking of Mazera.

"What's the weather like in Wales? Are the X-Ss still moving?"

It took Howell a moment before he answered. "No, apparently the weather is still very bad and the X-Shocks don't appear to want to move in it."

"Excellent, gives us more time." Garrus paused then deliberately added. "Sergeant Mazera's intel was accurate. We'll have to pass that info along to other groups that might encounter X-Shocks." He was certain that Howell was just the tiniest bit discomforted by that comment. He'd have had a touch more respect for the man if he'd just come out and said he was wrong.

About then he heard Mazera behind them.

"Iha, where's Essex?"

The older Maori glanced around. "He was here a few moments ago. He finished his tests first."

"Tocsin, I don't see Yelter." Jask's sub harmonics were concerned. He had served along side the woman, knew her quirks.

"I thought I saw her leave with one of the humans." The soldier spoke up.

"Which human?" Mazera demanded.

"The skinny one with the pale fringe." Tocsin answered as he took off his cestus. Though an ancient weapon the smaller man was an expert with them. Enough so that even Victus would hesitate to challenge him.

"Oh crap!" That was Mazera, now alarmed.

"Hell." Howell surged to his feet, Garrus not far behind him. Two over enthusiastic demolitions experts without supervision was dangerous.

"Jask, does she still have the keys to the ordinance locker?"

Jask groaned. "Yes, her superior went back on the **Taetris** so he gave them to her."

"And you didn't take…."

Garrus was cut off, as there was an explosion outside their building. Everyone whirled in that direction, some stumbling, birds and dust fell out of the rafters, and the flock of chickens that scavenged the yard suddenly came stampeding into the building – squawking and half running/half flying. Shedding feathers amid the clucking, squawking cacophony.

Like the horses they'd decided early on that they didn't approve of Turians, so after a moment they ran back out – still squawking. Particularly as there were now several Turians running in their direction.

Everyone raced for the door. They rolled it back and surged outside. About 50 yards away was a riding paddock. Garrus had heard it was for kids, so it was quite small. Gnarled old tree at one side and an ancient wood fence surrounded it.

The tree was now near obliterated – all that was left was a shattered, smoking stump. Oddly enough the fence gate was intact; but the rest of it was mostly gone.

Just rising from behind a mound of hay were the two ordinance experts. Essex looked a bit startled, Yelter looked excited.

"C4 is a lot stronger than you said." Garrus heard Yelter say to the human.

"ESSEX!" Mazera bellowed and the human snapped to attention, looking guilty.

"Oh." Yelter finally looked around and saw everyone that was converging on them.

"Tocsin, Renna, and Malda go catch anybody heading this way. Tell them we're not under attack." Garrus barked out an order, already seeing Turians racing over from the training grounds, armed. He was sure they were coming from all over.

As the three ran off, Garrus got on his omni-tool and made a broadcast to the channel all the Turians were tapped into.

"This is Praetor Vakarian. We are not under attack. Stand down. We are not under attack. It is merely ordinance testing." He told them.

After a moment he got an incoming call from Victus.

" _Vakarian, what in Spirit's name is going on?"_ Victus was annoyed; from the sounds of it he'd also been headed their way.

"Apparently Yelter found a fellow enthusiast in the human explosive's expert." He told his superior.

There was a sub harmonic groan from the older man. " _And who let them have access to ordinance_?"

"Nobody. Jask forgot to take the keys to the explosive's locker back from Yelter."

That elicited an even louder groan from Victus.

" _What did they destroy_?" Victus knew Yelter only too well. The tale of her taking out both a Brute and a forward observation post during the war was legendary. To be fair, it was the Brute falling on the post that had destroyed it; but she'd blown up the Brute with somewhat more force than necessary.

"Not sure." About then Whiteson arrived on the scene with several of his ' _gardeners_ '. "I'll get back to you."

" _Understood. If Whiteson is there, have him come see me afterwards."_

"Yes Primarch." He cut communications and turned to the others.

Mazera was busy berating the human expert. Jask looked to be waiting his turn with Yelter. Both experts seemed surprised at the excitement they'd caused. Meanwhile Garrus was pleased to see that his squad had intercepted most of the Turians headed this way and got them to go back to what they'd been doing. Though from the sub harmonics he could hear they were relieved but not happy. Many had just begun to relax from the Reaper war.

"Essex what the hell were you thinking?" She was right in his face.

"I was just showing Specialist Yelter some old C4 I had." Essex replied. A bit puzzled by the resulting furor.

"This isn't the base, Essex, it's an old historical estate." Mazera was frustrated and just barely keeping her calm. "You can't go around blowing things up without asking."

"Oh. Hadn't thought of that, Sergeant." The man admitted. Garrus swore he could hear Mazera gritting her teeth.

"Lovely explosion though." Yelter cheerfully spoke up and Jask, Mazera, Garrus, and Howell groaned in unison.


	11. Chapter 11 - Enthusiasm

_Hello All. I hope your week goes well. Sorry if this is a short chapter, but it seemed to have hit a logical stopping place. I know, I'm ebul, I tend for cliff hangers. (As opposed to plant hanger?) Runs for cover. Don't mind me, I'm just being silly. Thank you for everything from comments to favs to follows. You rock. If you've got a comment or I goofed (always a possibility) don't hesitate to let me know. Have a good one. Cheers. Oh, as always this wondrous Universe belongs to Bioware - I'm just playing with it._

* * *

Enthusiasm

 **Garrus**

Fortunately, according to Whiteson, the small riding paddock was not an historic structure, being only fifty years old. Though Garrus didn't advocate destroying history – the Reapers had done enough of that – if it had been something more important that wasn't scheduled to be demolished it might have made more of an impression on the ' _Bad Ass Boomers'_ as Mazera had taken to calling the pair.

"You do realize they take that as a compliment." He overheard Jask tell Mazera. Her exasperated eye roll said it all.

"I thought Essex was bad." That was Howell, sounding a bit awed.

"Remind me to tell you the tale of the Brute, the Forward Observation Post, and Specialist Yelter." Garrus glanced over at the Major.

Howell grinned suddenly. "That anything like an Admiral's car and a mess hall?"

"Probably." Garrus gave a chuff of amusement.

Whiteson had gotten his people started on cleaning/clearing up the debris.

Watching them for a moment gave Garrus an idea and he called to Jask. "Sergeant, have Yelter help the ground crew with their clean up."

"Good idea." Mazera glanced briefly at Howell who nodded. "Essex, you're detailed to the ground crew until everything is cleared. Am I understood?"

"Yes Sergeant." Essex said absently, already poking around in the remains, obviously wanting to see what the C4 had done.

"Why do I get the feeling that neither of them think any of that is a punishment." Jask observed philosophically, watching the two shifting stuff with Whiteson's people. Periodically pausing to excitedly point out some obscure type of damage to the other one. Whiteson's people seemed more amused by the two ordinance handlers than anything.

"Because they don't." Mazera rubbed her forehead like a headache was starting. "To them that was just an experiment, a nice loud experiment." She sighed. "This is going to be a…long mission."

"Maybe if we lock them in the latrine we can be on the road before they escape." She went on, eyeing the two.

"I wouldn't." That was Jask. "Yelter would probably just blow a wall."

"Don't you mean the door?"

"No, I mean a wall. She likes to do things big." Jask was exasperated.

Yelter meant well; but she was a louder, much less scientific version of Mordin Solus, Garrus thought, too oblivious to notice how everyone else was reacting to her ' _experiments_ '. IE – fleeing for their lives. Or as Turians said – 'making a strategic withdrawal.'

Or in Mordin's case being massively embarrassed. Mordin's sex talk still ranked as one of the most mortifying moments of his entire life. Mordin had just been puzzled as to why the imparting of ' _scientific data_ ' was so embarrassing. It had taken Garrus months to get over flinching when he heard the words ' _chaffing_ ' and _'ingesting'_ ; and Shepard's tendency to giggle about it hadn't helped.

About then his omni-tool signaled. It was the alert he used whenever Victus contacted him.

"Yes Primarch?"

" _What's the damage, Vakarian_?" Victus sounded resigned.

"Not too bad according to Whiteson. They blew up a tree and an old riding ring that were scheduled for demolition anyway." Garrus told him. "We've got them helping with clean up to take the burden off of Whiteson's people."

" _Excellent_." Victus had perked up. "Is Whiteson still there?"

"Yes."

"Tell him to come see me and you come with him." Victus told him.

"What about Howell? He and I have been running the squads through proficiency tests." Garrus didn't have to see the Major to know that he wouldn't take kindly to being over looked. He said as much in his undertones.

Garrus heard the slightly resigned sound of Victus's subs; but none of the humans would have. "All of you come up."

"Jask, make sure Yelter helps them clean up everything, then get everyone back to the barracks so they can clean up." He yelled at the older Turian; and got one of those vid salutes back.

His sub harmonics told the Sergeant exactly what he thought of that; but Jask pretended not to hear.

Whiteson took a few more minutes to get everything set with his people then the three men headed back into the mansion.

Howell didn't seem to know quite who to talk to. Garrus was a Praetor; though Garrus still thought he'd only been given the ranking to make the Generals pay attention to him, no matter what Victus said.

Whiteson was in charge of the mansion and the grounds crew. Garrus was dead certain that he'd held some sort of military rank at some time. Might still carry it; but he made no mention of it nor did he dress particularly military. But he acted and carried himself like ex-military. Garrus would have bet Special Forces of some sort; but wasn't going to pry. Whiteson would tell him if and when he needed to know.

They hit the mansion and Garrus realized that he wasn't quite sure where Victus was, and the mansion was large and very confusing. Something to do with different wings being constructed in different eras. Another human peculiarity. He flagged down a passing soldier and asked.

The man directed them upstairs to the officer's mess. Garrus would have either guessed that or Victus's office.

Climbing slowly, human stairs were not built for Turians in armored boots, the three made their way upstairs.

"I hear there's an elevator." Howell commented as they reached the first landing.

Whiteson snorted. "The dumb waiter moves faster than it does."

"Dumb waiter?" Garrus couldn't even begin to imagine who that was.

Seeing the look on his face, Whiteson chuckled. "It's just a hand operated lift that is used to bring things like meals and supplies from one level to another, Praetor."

"Garrus is fine." He told the older man.

"The Praetor isn't impressed with his rank." Howell spoke up, sounding oddly disapproving.

"Like I've said, the Primarch only gave it to me so the Generals would pay attention." Garrus explained, yet again. Glad that Howell didn't know who he really was. He had a feeling that if the Major was impressed by his title, he'd be even more impressed with his service record. Particularly the part about serving with the Commander Shepard. Like it or not, and he was positive she wouldn't like it, she was known as the Savior of the Galaxy.


End file.
